The dry leaf
Look at the dry leaf
And follow the lines of its dead veins
There is song there
It is about death not love
It is about the crumpling of the earth
It is about the toppling down of an edifice
It is an egg without the yolk
A dryness that
Finally crumples like a white eggshell
Too dry
To stand on its own feet
A broken heart
A hopeless dream
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
