The forest holds its breath,
light spills in fractured silence.
It does not choose where it falls—
limbs, leaves, forgotten paths,
all gilded in fleeting gold.
Between shadowed roots,
a moment unfurls—
untouched and transient.
Time presses softly here,
and still,
it slips away.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline)
- Published: June 22nd, 2025 03:25
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Comments2
I can see it plain as day. A wonderous glimpse of golden rays setting through tree branches to a forest floor. This poem conveys a sense of peace and calm a feeling of warmth falling into shadow and the onset of the coming night. So well crafted Cryptic that it seems I was there. A fave
Thanks Soren, so good to know ποΈππ»
a very tranquil piece
Thanks kindlyποΈππ»
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