It’s peaceful, no sounds to be heard,
Except for the sounds of tiny animals scurrying,
Leaves rustling, creeks trickling.
These noises rumble like thunder in the silence.
Huge trees tower overhead,
Protecting it, from loudness,
The last silent place survives.
Now, but not forever.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoésieA bunch of poems that I have written. As you read more of the poems, the style changes as I change. This is a time capsule for my poetry.
