Darkness is a hunger-keening
for the light; where starkly seeming
of great sorrow, gently sounds
a mourning call to where abounds
love. In the heart, yet not inside;
love is in the leaves, and lost
amidst the silver stems there.
And it only enters when frost
forces us to draw it from the
air.
- Author: Reivax Camlost ( Offline)
- Published: January 17th, 2020 18:11
- Category: Love
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: victoria rose firefly
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