Bring me hollow emotions and make them full,
Restless, weaving churning soul.
For if to be awhile alone, in solitude,
Through every storm.
Gently fall and swirl below,
A leaf from the very tree bestowed.
And dip your heart in churning fires.
As warming voices sing in pretty choirs.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 10th, 2026 06:21
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
Comments1
There is something almost Shakespearian in this poem its wording, its meter, and even its flow. Nicely done
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