Beautifully falling
Drifting to the ground
Blown with the wind
Flying to nowhere and everywhere at once
Barely heard as it brushes the grass
As it makes its way through
Barely recognized as it goes from its origin to the land beyond
Starts to wither away and break
Grows weaker with every touch made
Shrivels and begins to fade
Awaits for the wind to its last piece away
YOU ARE READING
A little piece of me
PoetrySometimes I rhyme Sometimes I don't I almost always write But sometimes I won't It all depends on my mood All depends on my muse But right now, here's something from me to you
