Swaying along the river's gyre,
Noticing sparkling streams of white -
Blue meshed in to the tune of lyres,
With children dancing to the song of life
Flapping their wings in place of kites,
In no regard for sirs or sires,
Each within the canvas brimmed of delight -
That in color's notes what they sought to spire
Was in but a passing, of day to night.
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Author:
Nicholas Browning (
Offline) - Published: December 15th, 2020 23:07
- Comment from author about the poem: Hope you enjoyed.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
Offline)
Comments2
Each day in our lives is so special.
Andy
They certainly should be. We're never guaranteed another one.
Cooeee, good write N.
I dunno if I seen many gyres, or lyres! heehee.
Thanks Orch, good to see you again. Hope you're doing well.
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