|
The grasshoppers have stopped coming.
The Muses weep. No one honors them with dance or song. The Muses weaken. Man’s only concern is War. Greed, the poison. Eternal, the Muses sleep. Creativity, Art, Expression lost.
0 Comments
The night air is cool and crisp
The wind blowing in gusts that frighten the unsuspecting ear Alone, staring at screens, I contemplate one, two, three things and more Attention drawn to everything and nothing Candles burn until they die The noise of life dimming until the sun shines once more Set me on your windowsill
Face me toward the sun Give me water Watch me grow Help me blossom under your care Talk with me, tell me of your hopes and fears Carbon dioxide love Let me bloom |
Poetry from the past and presentPoetry is not my forte, but they say creativity is about being vulnerable. So, here lies all that I am, and all that I ever was. Archives
February 2020
@CristinaRomagnolo.com 2016-2021. All Rights Reserved.
|
RSS Feed