The crashing tides,
The howling winds,
The calling birds,
The crunching leaves,
Is what I hear.
The dancing trees,
My flowing hair,
The yellowing grass,
The prancing deer,
Is that of which I see.
The bark of trees,
The flannel of my sweater,
The cold brush of the winds,
Are all the things I feel.
The darkening sky,
The colorful clouds,
The setting sun,
Are those of which I wish to run into.
My arms flung wide,
Running, running, running,
And whirling, whirling, whirling,
'Till my home is far behind,
And the sunset now my enshrined.
YOU ARE READING
As I Sit Alone & Other Poems
PoetryTo explore and to understand, To feel and to not secondhand. The thoughts of one's self to share, To make intentions for others to care. To make for the ones whom walk in others' shoes a heartland.
