Whispers On the Wasteland
My Rose can be found
in the desert,
hiding among the cacti.
And her hallow voice
can be seen
tumbling with the weeds.
Barren,
and dry,
her tears come in a storm,
flooding the valleys,
for only a moment,
and swallowed by the vast pores of her hand.
These are her whispers,
heard haunting ...
like dust ...
crossing the wasteland.
Copyright © Martin Braun | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment