XIX
written by: huntersjames
@huntersjames
Returning home quietly within my dream
Stepped out of my cloud looked down the hill
To see my mother and her mate the two
Whose warm embrace now years ago from which I would not wait.
I heard her voice and felt his eyes
Each grateful if bewildered, I entered through their gate
Out of the forest blinded, I climbed into their tree
Whose trunk and span and crown did reach beyond my mind
Woven tightly writhing snakes of branches cautioned my return
Now this place no one recalls, its fall leaves color me.
Poet
Person
done a lot of things,
some more worthwhile than others,
now I'm doin this
Person
done a lot of things,
some more worthwhile than others,
now I'm doin this
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