10-07-2024, 01:34 AM
Below is my first attempt at poetry:
The candle stands by the shattering window.
Broken glass rains on the once-green hills.
Yet the flame shines to the new day.
But the eternal flame is lost in the dead forest.
The candle is drawn to the yellow flicking light.
But the darkness hides the way to the new dawn.
So, the candle trusts the sailboat to the ocean's breeze.
Underneath a palm tree on white sand by the waves crashing on the shore, the souls are united by a candle's wick alight.
The new moon and dark skies are gone, for the new day arrives.
The candle stands by the shattering window.
Broken glass rains on the once-green hills.
Yet the flame shines to the new day.
But the eternal flame is lost in the dead forest.
The candle is drawn to the yellow flicking light.
But the darkness hides the way to the new dawn.
So, the candle trusts the sailboat to the ocean's breeze.
Underneath a palm tree on white sand by the waves crashing on the shore, the souls are united by a candle's wick alight.
The new moon and dark skies are gone, for the new day arrives.
