Severus Alexander

30 January 2017

A rustling passes, slack on branches thin 

To carry down by feet, held still by whim

That noticed it in passing, by the

scrape of somber leaves 

That weigh in tangles by their mossy skin 

 

It whispers eager things to him 

Of joy, and smiles, and sin

It lifts his gaze to the graying, clouded sky and

lets his fingers loose from their embrace

To curl about the coattails of the wind 

 

Comments2

  • MendedFences27

    Beautiful. A simple thing like a passing breeze can rouse a host of emotions, joy, smiles, sin. Loved "coattails of the wind." Exceptional writing.

  • Michael Edwards

    So well written I do like /coattails of the wind/ lovely words.



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