All a Mist
by cereseithne
The idyllic memories
of those candid days
I think of fondly a lot
began to dissipate on
the smoking fogs of
the restless mornings.
All quickly lost in
a swirl of wind.
YOU ARE READING
A Voyage to Anthemoessa
PoetryLonely, we blazed through the precipitous trails of our perennial springs as though we were not distinctively dwellers of our own lands. Its conundrums, which oftentimes hit us like combers, we endeavor to embark on to illuminate its intricacies. We...
