In the whispers of morning’s first light, Where dewdrops glisten, a shimmering sight, Lies a world untouched, a canvas pristine,
By KVarnasabout a month ago in Poets
In the meadow’s golden glow, a bee takes flight, Its wings a blur of motion, in the soft sunlight. Amidst the petals, it lands with grace,
In the garden of memories, where roses once bloomed, Now lie wilted petals, in sorrow entombed. For there, amidst whispers of a love once so true,
In the rush of the day, in the hum of the night, Many pass through this world with nary a sight. Blinded by routine, consumed by their strife,
In Willow Creek, where shadows weep, Sarah lived, her sorrow deep. A solitary soul, by woods embraced, Longing for love, in solitude faced.
In the velvet sky, the moon holds sway, A gentle orb that guides the way. Silver beams dance on waves below, Casting a mystical, enchanting glow.
Don't be afraid of come back, The metal eating honor: He who understands the brittle heart of steel, Shall not tremble before any blade.
Throughout the centuries, my roots have delved deep into the warm ground, And through centuries, fierce storms have failed to tear them out,