A million pathways into my heart. All pictures, minus the first, are my own; yes, my foot is tiny.
One of my personal favorites that I've written! I read it oft for rexation! Sorry if it's too boring for y'all...
I sit at the base of an oak tree, on the top of a small hill.
Rain falls from a cloudy gray sky. Bits of sun break through,
The air is cold. I can see my breath.
A little poem for one of my favourite trees. It's a place where I like to sit and think.
This pain is too much, it burrows too deep...
The flower stem is bent, leaning from all the dew drops.
The path before her was long. While the night was cold and dark.
"𝚒𝚗 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜..." ☁️🌱
The withered trees cling to life. Some will die, while others live.
Poetry month - #14
You're beautiful !
From the middle east
The Saharian winds
Frizzled my weave
- Latest or earliest - Dog Days
“Whoever thinks of going to bed before twelve o'clock is a scoundrel.”
By: Ioana Moldovan