Ash

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


In twelve thousand years,

Many roads can be built.

And a tree may grow so great,

Every story lives in its rivers.

 

May your story be

Sun through branches.

But even moon between leaves

Is still sun’s mirror,

My fortunate friend.

 

Yet if the darkness behind you

Should swallow the light,

Fly away, little bird,

Singing the stars.


Submitted: February 02, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Stellanotte. All rights reserved.

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