Posted in of the mind, poetry

Midlife Musings


forget not
that the earth loves
feeling your toes on its surface
much as the wind loves
caressing your gentle face
and the way your hair dances
like woven galaxies
of secret musings set ablaze
for when you tell
of death and silence
I can hear your wounded spirit call
deep through the crevice
of your autumn gaze
behind your blissful,
florid walls

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Hi! I'm Rose. I fancy myself a poet sometimes... But really, I'm just a dreamer- a wonder wanderer. Words are my photo albums.

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