like an acorn,
drifting down to a bed of emerald grass,
amidst a sea of crisp autumn leaves,
swirling like the color of flames,
crimson vermilion sunshine
scraping the dirt below.
but instead a breeze cuts off my course
and I come crashing down
onto concrete cold as ice,
only to crack
and eventually shatter.
YOU ARE READING
Rain Clouds
PoetrySimple poems, each with a story just behind them. ••• This book will be updated whenever I write a new poem worth posting. I draw inspiration either from my own complicated emotions, or sometimes even stories I've created in my mind. I suppose only...
