The wind is whispering secrets to the trees.
The world has frozen around me.
The birds have stopped singing.
The deer have stopped leaping.
I am alone.
The woods have become such a scary place.
A place that darkness overtakes.
The crash of a bullet, the boom of a fall, the blood of a soul that was lost.
But soon the light will come again.
After the snowfall.
The water will run, the deer will jump, and the birds will sing their song.
The flowers will bloom, the sun will rise, and I will come to realize.
I am no longer alone.
BINABASA MO ANG
simplicity
Poetrysimplicity.... that's what poetry is. but poetry has depth, emotion, a sense of understanding.
