Everything’s burning as an essence of flame,
Surrounding the material worth.
Realized, dreams , each night the same.
A pleasantry, oh so put forth.
As light enters the realm,
The book on the shelf,
Reads its own self,
And dust piles in girth.
Allow me the distant memory,
Lingering with stained senses.
As eternal as family,
Without the same pretenses.
As I listen to songs of a thousand birds,
Singing in words, only spring can hear.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 17th, 2025 06:23
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Priya Tomar, Damaso
Offline)
Comments4
If we listened more and looked more about us and breathe... our Spring ears will also atune.
I agree. Senenity now. Lol. Thanks for commenting.
Most welcome🕊️🙏🏻
This is a beautiful portrayal of spring so nicely worded it paints the picture well and a fave
Ty for reading and commenting as always Sorren.
You are most welcome
You painted spring with your clever poetic pen.
Very well
Thank you for your reading and faving.
Very welcome to you
Even tho winter draws near. Nice
It was 22 degrees yesterday. Reminded me of spring. Lol. Thanks for reading.
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