Two poems
See, the thing is I write two poems for each that you will ever see, the first one that typically goes into my notepad, and then the polished and refined version. But the thing is, somewhere in the process I can make changes that I wouldn't normally make it, so sometimes I lose versions, and some get better, in time. I suppose. I want to venture back to my old poetry and look at that, and this is becoming a poetry journal... I apologize if you don't like that, but I do.
Leaves watch the humble
skies, and sigh.
Thats the wind, running,
long fingers through
green green grass, and
sighs again.
Its the shade
in acres
of willow trees,
suspended shawls
of the forest, hiding
its sticky emerald
heart behind brilliant
waves and fluid
limbs.
And the sun slowly sets,
stretching dusk into eternity
with the colors of pink,
purple and orange, leaving
a steady moon of
mahogany,
set with clusters of
cool pearls
and constellations
that watch over us
as we sleep.
Leaves watch the humble
skies, and sigh.
Thats the wind, running,
long fingers through
green green grass, and
sighs again.
Its the shade
in acres
of willow trees,
suspended shawls
of the forest, hiding
its sticky emerald
heart behind brilliant
waves and fluid
limbs.
And the sun slowly sets,
stretching dusk into eternity
with the colors of pink,
purple and orange, leaving
a steady moon of
mahogany,
set with clusters of
cool pearls
and constellations
that watch over us
as we sleep.