The opaque civility
takes a big toll. The fledglings
were dying in the duck pond.
*
I want to steal the moon
tonight for a ritual
and bring it on my lake.
*
A wet floor always
mirrors the voices floating
on the low roof of my rainbow.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: July 28th, 2018 20:17
- Category: Nature
- Views: 31
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Offline)
Comments1
Extraordinary
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.