Sage
SAGE
The Burning sage smoulder's the twilight phantasmagoria,
Ghosts of scented smoke drift from a blackened clay pot,
Creatures sing our Sun to Morpheus arms,
Silence of their heart beats a deeper wish now,
Simple dreams of love in the long grass replace digital desire;
And all it took was our loss of freedom...
By
David Nickle Read
©D.N.Read 2020
All Rights Reserved By The Author
Copyright © David Nickle Read | Year Posted 2020
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