A blank canvas,
that I held,
which was ready to meld,
With nature's brush,
in which the connoisseur roams,
with each gentle stroke,
that defined my entity,
and took me closer to my destiny,
Each stroke on the canvas laid,
a symphony of hues displayed,
I found solace under the rusty leaves,
the melody and tune it weaves
DU LIEST GERADE
Reflections in Verse
PoesieIn "Reflections in Verse," the poet delves into the depths of self-discovery, weaving words like threads through the tapestry of their own existence. Each stanza serves as a mirror, reflecting the complexities of their inner world, from moments of t...
