the breeze was the first child to have been born, the first animals heard her criesheard her shreaks as she used the trees to rattlethe ground to danceher tears so large no river could curb. it is no surprise now,as she has grown old and wise,she uses the trees to rest,the ground to dream, andContinue reading “A new Friend”
Tag Archives: amwriting
The Painter
Photocopied trees circle me,And I feel as though I am being painted,As though a far away brush has brought us all into existence– Then a child runs too carelessly,falls on their face,And the painting is slightly torn.
poetpri 