Where oh where the blue jay crows
In its violent mirth
That prompt the singing souls rejoice
And contemplate their birth
Here is here, where regent stands
Thrust, above the clouds
Where weather would make noise again
But silence is the sound
And wrought upon the cobbled path
Is a balmy loam
That fogs the mind of many souls
And makes the restless roam
For years they'll roam this winding path
That parts the winding trees
That curl around a lost young soul
And never let them leave
But once the restless tire great
They lay 'neath canopies
And find a bed of moss awaits
A home beneath the trees
YOU ARE READING
All the little lights
PoesíaMy challenge to you is to read my poems and find your own meanings Votes and comments are very much appreciated:)
