The summer was only temporary
Can you hear the double bar?
See the seasons weeping,
I hope you've not strayed far.
Although the words are well read
And the pen can craft such art
Although the work is endless
There'll be deep scars on my heart.
In times of trepidation
And lonesome starless nights
Romanticism can desert me
But you are worth the plight.
I kiss the minds of many
I rise to stand as one
Be patient, kind and steady
And be a war of love.
YOU ARE READING
Petrichor
PoetryWe grow old eventually {here are the waking thoughts that consume me}
