From the forest I came.
From fallen trees--
I have no leaves,
No roots, no bark.
I am not vibrant.
Black and white--
Yet I create.
My colors are beyond those seen.
I am silent-- for now.
I wait-- for when the time is right,
One will caress my black and white canvas
And I will sing.
I will sing.
One will caress my black and white canvas
For this I wait.
But for now I am silent.
My colors are beyond those seen--
Yet I create
Black and white--
I am not vibrant.
No roots, no bark.
No leaves.
From fallen trees--
From the forest--I came.
About the Creator
AR
I'm a freelance creative who loves writing poetry and short stories. I hope you enjoy!
High Rise, Deep Impact
I have witnessed a death that I relive every time I step into an elevator. Although it no longer affects me as deeply—given that it's been 11 years since the incident—it remains a heart- rending memory from my first and last day as a paramedic. My initial call to the scene involved a man who seemed to have fallen down the elevator shaft of a high-rise building. Alternatively, it might have been that the elevator moved upwards while he was working on it. Different scenarios were being considered when I arrived.
By Penelope Henain2 days ago in Writers
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