The violets bend
As tender caresses
Of wind
Push and pull.
The gusts sweep through
And tear petals off
Without apology.
And the violets
Are left rumpled
Shuddering
And in awe
Watching as it goes
In bursts
In all that it does.
YOU ARE READING
The Second Time
Поэзия☾ This is a book of drafts of dorky, hopeless poems, poem-ish works, and rants that usually make no sense whatsoever. I hope you enjoy reading them just as much as I enjoy writing them. ☽ Copyright © 2015 by something1d, all rights reserved. Poetry...
