The lunar moon
casts a blue
shadow
on a solar sun.
The moist rain
pours down
the dark hinges
of impeccable
beauty.
The statue
shifts
impossibly,
and I hear
a child's cry.
YOU ARE READING
Someone Like Me {Poetry}
PoetryWith power there come words. And with words there comes music. And with music there comes joy. And that's why I write poetry.
