The cold, crisp air
it burns my skin,
Yet didn't mean a thing.
The night, so dark.
The sky, so stark.
Free from reality's cling.
Two streams of light.
Their praying eyes
long for
fear from what is there,
When none is found
in sight nor sound,
They feast on water's glare.
No grievance to disturb,
or sound is heard
besides that of the lands intent.
A tranquil eve.
No urge to leave,
Yet, all my will is spent.
YOU ARE READING
Life Lessons - The Poetry Collection
PoetryI mean hints in the title; some mostly depressing poetry w some life lessons :) @land.of.poetry on Instagram for more!
