Dancers of the wind come fluttering home. Delivered on the breeze from the giddy mountains of the blue. To fall, as doves feathers, upon the tragic, fractured concrete of our back yard. The purity of fresh fallen snow, shapes the world in cotton candy, And urges me to paint in its crisp, blank canvas. Such curved, smooth shapes as to make the angels gasp... Let them sleep now. To wake in the evil sunlight... And slide away.Birth sign: Gemini
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Will Read.