Raw

My heart’s whispers

Like weakened tree leaves

Have dried in the prevailing winds

Only to loosen and fallen- short

In symbolic message and love both

.

They’re now all scattered

About the landscapes and Hell’s gate

Furled, nearly colorless and chipped

Even the moon overlooks them

Strewn in the wide-open

.

Like unwanted weeds

Awaiting…snow

.

Poet of the Light © 2020

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