Jun 22
Such a graceful vessel,
Riding the rolling clouds.
The time of her mast brushed the underside of the sun,
Her hull scraping mountain tops.
From whence she came, no one knows.
Nor to where she goes.
But her image as she sails by,
Is for the eyes, a lullaby.
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Poetry For The Lost People
Poetry365 observations and comments about society, life and love throughout 2022. Come with me on my journey day by day, as I write what I've always wanted to say. There is no method or planning, just thoughts and perceptions about the way of the world. A...
