Descending beyond the storm of night
Desolate land with little light
You put up a fight
Against the wind that steals your right
Overgrown, grass like straw
But how you soar
Through the wild moor
There's no fun in a tour
A pinprick of light in the distance
Where the trees dance
Where the music of the air plays
And a blanket of snow lays
Heather stretching far
Like a violet blanket
Scattered leaves
Like muddled hopes
The beauty of the moors calls you home
And you answer that call
Never wanting to leave this place
You think as home
YOU ARE READING
The Everything Poem Book
PoesíaJust a big book of poems on things from Unicorns and mythical creatures to war, vampires and death
