Clouds float where I long to be
where angels tread and secrets breathe
Sky painted blue, not for me, maybe you
and if I could just grow wings
I would sail above the froth an’ fro of
all these crazy pieces
Related Articles
– red shards of hope
feathered tethered and bare
like little glass pieces
not finding their way home
and no where
to go.
Filed under: Misc Speaking, Poeticly Speaking Tagged: broken
This post first appeared on Saying It Anyway | … With Intent., please read the originial post: here
