I did
not want to see
the trees. My
attention flew
past,
and
really, where was the
inspiration?
everyone looks for
truth
and
love
Searching in
underbrush,
leaves, anything but those naked
cherry tress, still
unblossomed in winter,
swaying without the weight of spring.
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2 comments:
I like this one!
I like your poem... and how it makes me think of cemeteries.
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