Through the dark the skinny twigs rustle in the wind like crackling souls.
A branch whispers to the other,
"The fogs coming in, are you ready for our break?"
A cold winters dream, a solitary thought.
Only a light from the star,
peeking through from afar.
Does it seem there is trouble
so distant in the skies?
Do not be mistaken.
It is what is seen through your eyes.
Believe is to see,
or to see is to believe.
I believe then I see.
I can't believe what I am hearing.
A rattle from a tree.
A whisper from a branch.
A light from a star.
A dream.
Only I dream.
No comments:
Post a Comment