Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash
Gutted, torn inside
Trunk red, more red than roses
Branching, I’m worried
—-
Crimson sun, tattered
Moon hits blood, is it you there?
Please come back to me
****
Our string is taut, blue
Strum it, it sings harp blue-bird
Red tree swings madly.
****
About the Creator
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.