Warmth blooms on the horizon while we drive
into the cold abyss of a mountain long forgotten
which the moon hangs over like the pendulum of a
broken clock that's never wrong.
The silver brilliance of the moon fades as
it's opponent rises in the distance.
It's attempts to stay are fleeting and futile
and soon it is as forgotten as the mountain.
The mountain rises in the distance
Tall and strong, but just one of the many
and it's height is easily outmatched.
Still we drive into it's lonely embrace
which chills the heart and rattles the bones.
We are forgotten as well as we drive on.
Just another traveler driving in the distance.
But we bloom with the warmth are souls provide us.
And when the day is gone the moon is not so forgotten.
And when the mountain rises before you, he is not so forgotten.
And to each other we are not so forgotten.
The forgotten barren wastelands of the world are not
forgotten by the ones who reside there.
YOU ARE READING
A Dash of Lemon
PoetryThis is a bunch of random poetry I wrote. Key word being random. Some of it kind of has a story continuing from my other poetry book, (Backwards Lemons) but it's not super important. Some of it's insane, some of it's random, some of it's crazy, and...
