In that sleepy hallway for only a few
Hours a day, the walls and floor become
Alive with the shadows of that tree.
Its leaves and branches dance and frolic
to the song the wind sings.
Its black and gray arms raise to skim the ceiling
Before sweeping down to the ground.
In that tired hallway, for only a few
Hours a day, there is that tree.
(Written: 14/11/23)
YOU ARE READING
Poems & Short Stories
RandomAs the title says, this is a book of some of my amateur poetry and writing. Each chapter will either be a poem or a small, short story. Most of it's really bad so I hope you don't cringe if you read it.
