38 lines
1.1 KiB
Text
38 lines
1.1 KiB
Text
|
daybreak
|
||
|
|
2019-05-15
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
***
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
the wind and fresh air feel good on my skin
|
||
|
|
and a strange happiness fills my heart
|
||
|
|
as if everything will be alright
|
||
|
|
and the world is beginning again
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
last I sat here was at the apocalypse
|
||
|
|
wondering if the world would ever be okay since
|
||
|
|
and while the past few months have been a strain,
|
||
|
|
everything will wash away in the rain
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Vane of three years ago, give me a sign
|
||
|
|
because I've been feeling you smile through the chasm of time
|
||
|
|
did you know this would happen? is this why you wrote
|
||
|
|
that the only real future was the one that you chose?
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
a shredded leaf sits at my feet
|
||
|
|
a relic from a time when thoughts were replete
|
||
|
|
and I sit here in silence, wind at my back
|
||
|
|
and a spirit from another world at my side
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
rain comes from snow, and puddles from ice
|
||
|
|
and crows in the sky, and ground filled with mice
|
||
|
|
and ants from the air, like a god's springtime scourge
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
this is a place I might never see again
|
||
|
|
like that basement where I met my first alien friend
|
||
|
|
dear arboretum, from cradle to grave,
|
||
|
|
pray to whatever god you believe in, that my soul they might save
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
***
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|