I am a stone
Unchanged
Or I am a mountain
Slowly depleted from the storms
I weather
The wistful wind rustling my trees
I watch the leaves as they slowly fall
And wither away
Loosing themselves with such beauty
Yet a seemingly endless cycle of sleep
And rebirth
I die and live, reincarnating life
Ever changed by the solitary hands
Of time
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Author:
MrNobody40 (
Offline) - Published: September 4th, 2020 05:19
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 28
- User favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses.
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Comments1
That time has no beginning and no ending as we live our lives forever.
Andy
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