6:59 AM
That morning I drove
And peered up at the trees,
The early morning light beaming,
Streaming through the leaves,
Pouring through the branches
Like water trickling
Along the sides of a bucket pulled
From a strange well in the desert
And between the cracked lips
Of a thirsty traveler,
Like liquid hope.
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Author:
Jean Darc (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 30th, 2017 19:18
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 37
- User favorite of this poem: Alex Trenwith.
Offline)
Comments3
Great description and a wonderful read! 🙂
Thank you!
Agreed!
Lovely analogies in your poem, Jean. Welcome to MPS!
Thank you!
Good write. Welcome to MPS.
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