You spoke of music in those hills.
Songs from your once-young limbs.
Twirling with leaves.
Running with the wind.
Your seasons are mine now.
And so are your songs.
And that same joyous smile you've always worn...
is now mine as well.
Oh fragile-looking man.
I know now why you laugh the way you do. I am your neighbor-mountain.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment