between the trees,
in the hollow crooks of leaves,
through the watchful eyes of daisies
and over the rivers bend,
a little girl sat,
whispering tales of sorrow
into the wind
and lake full of tears -
her night was ephemeral,
but her days were never ending.
she found love in the moon -
in it's haunting white gaze,
a sort of odd comfort,
unlike the harsh burning glare
of the sun's endless rays:
people talk and taunt
in the summer's heat,
but in the watchful gaze of the moon,
wounds heal,
and angels fly.
YOU ARE READING
the light
Poetrya collection of uncategorized poems from around the years 2016-2019.