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Literature Text
Have you seen the airy taste of rustling trees before?
They make the silent abysses within you conquer you no more.
There is one in the middle of a circle bathed in age,
almost timid is he, doesn't know of anger, hate or rage.
His leaves are dry, his trunk is cracked, his boughs shake like in fear,
inside he knows his time will come; till then he's staying here.
They make the silent abysses within you conquer you no more.
There is one in the middle of a circle bathed in age,
almost timid is he, doesn't know of anger, hate or rage.
His leaves are dry, his trunk is cracked, his boughs shake like in fear,
inside he knows his time will come; till then he's staying here.
© 2014 - 2024 BasilCallahan
Comments8
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Wow, Love this, Basil!