Waiting On the New Moon
Morning purple as a crushed rose.
The river as calm as glass.
Quiet as sleep.
The sky and her twin, the river, run toward the horizon.
Where the river touches the sky, she blushes and the dawn comes.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
