The swaying of her voice is enough to make anyone cry
She had a voice filled with such splendor
That the gods use it as an alarm on starry mornings and sunny nights
She is...otherworldly
She is a memento to all anyone has ever wanted to be
Woman and men alike fall at her knees
Who she is? No one knows...
Strictly speaking,
She is whoever you thought of when you read this poem
YOU ARE READING
Poems for the lost
PuisiA book of poems for people just trying to find out who they are written by someone trying to find out who they are. Hopefully a story of growth and dreams.
