Waterfalling through wisps

The wisps of mist

afford no glance

As soft wings missed

the waiting branch

And once, so color rich

the tears of years did blanch

That only now in bones, our bliss

faint memory does plant. 

 

 

I know this is no desert, but it is a vague longingOld country, stricken, cry of thirst

the white gums plea I grant

Here now by lonely quest

bare feet upon the sand

Fresh morning bless

this silent man.

 

Galaxiblue for you

Michael's Poems

She was a proud woman