Like a snake girl,
the black tresses trailing
behind the heels.
The wavering moon was,
gliding in blue sky,
for a rendezvous.
The beds had
become obsolete. Time to
use oneiric rocks.
Faith was no
more relevant. Now
you hear the dreams.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: April 24th, 2019 19:16
- Category: Nature
- Views: 30
- Users favorite of this poem: Lauraš»
Offline)
Comments1
Upon those
āoneiric rocksā...
we can choose to alleviate
the core of our dreams!
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