The mountains are calling, or maybe it's you, you are calling
You both sound the same this time when leaves started falling
When the ground gets cold and the flowers wilt there you are in everything that is still beautiful though it leaves us.
The flowers will return as will the leaves but you will stay stationary
You left us here and life feels somewhat more eerie.
The mountains keep calling and they still sound like your voice.
The wind whispers apologizing that you couldn't stay as if that makes it easier to watch you go away.
You are not here and yet you are still somehow everywhere.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Time
PoetryA collection of poetry I have written during the lowest and highest points of my life.
