Where the Wind Goes
Among the moss, I can smell the ominous mist the frog's croaks begin to twist. As our cold winter father adjourns, Break out from the earth my graves of flowers.
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.
