Sigh! The missing poem
invites in a flood of distress.
A journey past plunges into depths of blue.
Bright lights brighten pellets of rain;
edges of perception hint at a flawless act.
Yet, I fail to mend ruined remains.
A bus ride home recounted a voyage back
shared with ten travelers
that seemed to drift as I.
Worry not, my conscience whispers.
Odd as it may seem the passage never dies,
But the tribute shall always abide.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.11 seconds at 12:25pm on Nov 14, 2024 via server WEBX2.