The Moth.

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

Submitted: November 30, 2018

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Submitted: November 30, 2018

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Fall. Stillness. Sleeping trees.

Light smoke from a cigarette

Creates an outline

Of wanted earlier the forms and lands

Which were not found

But were so desired.

 

The moth, between tree trunks.

Abrupt and madly flight.

What brought it to this world

In such cold weather

To show me my reflection in the sky?

Who I am here. Where I am from.

And why.


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