In a garden of woe
Briers of trouble grow
Thorns in parched sand
A desert under the sun
Where no victory can be won
Weeds watered by my bleeding hand
The tail of a shooting star
Woven into a jar
Holding a distilled moonbeam
With the shadow of a tear
I wash the dust of memories clear
Leaving only the scent of a dream
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Offline) - Published: January 11th, 2023 15:38
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
Offline)
Comments3
May that dream lead you into the light of beauty soren.
Andy
Thank you Andy, your comment is appreciated.
"The scent of a dream", haunting and beautiful, lingering as dreams so often are. I feel such longing in this poem, with the tear and the memory. Such a lovely write dear friend.
Dear Bella thank you for the review and kind comment.
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