Fall

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 15, 2017

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Submitted: July 15, 2017

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Fall

 

Running through the forest

No time to carefully tread

I haven't any sense of direction

I don't need it, so I said

 

Running through the fields

Corn and flowers and wheat

The bees nest on my right

Their buzzing and honey is sugary sweet

 

Running through the deserted land

Red dust storms to provide entertainment 

No animals or signs of life

The desert has no containment

 

Where all paths ends

An edge is to call

To trip or slip or to be pushed

It all ends the same; you fall


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