the sound of
children running
is like a string
of branches
being brushed
by winds
excited voices
and the breeze of
feet over the sand
discover
each shell a
treasure
each stone
a beginning
of remembering
even years later,
when the shell
and stone
on a desk
or window sill
pulls at
the pause within
where reason
holds the
order of
disorder,
the common
thread
unchanged
-
Author:
shadow424 (
Offline) - Published: June 26th, 2021 20:15
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 42
Offline)
Comments1
This is good Funnily enough i have stones even now that take me back to where i found them and what i was doing
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