What I see through the window, is it true?
The screaming streets lay silent all night,
Or is it the desire of solitude
That makes me wildly dream such sights?
Oh! The sky in such a mess,
When strewn beautifully with blue and red.
The pink moon rides like a goddess
on the clouds,
When the cuckoo calls at twilight's rest.
Some humor in her power nature shows,
For who could've dreamt of a day so soon?
When the monsters be caged
where they belong,
And life shall claim the earth as its own.
YOU ARE READING
WOOLGATHERING
Poetry"WOOLGATHERING; A Collection Of Dreamy Thoughts" is a collection of poems that I had written when I experienced emotions so intense that I didn't know what else to do, or those times when I experienced a form of bliss that comes with wandering alone...
