It’s blue,
and a Monday,
and it’s just blown in
like leaves
in a breeze,
no longer attached to trees.
A cold blue
whistling through
like a simile or a metaphor
likened to one that you have met before,
or one that is a cold blue thistle.
It’s blue,
and a Monday,
and it’s just blown in
like leaves
in a breeze,
no longer attached to trees.
A cold blue
whistling through
like a simile or a metaphor
likened to one that you have met before,
or one that is a cold blue thistle.
Riverside Peace on Leaves Leave | |
Words from a Lentil… on Leaves Leave | |
Riverside Peace on Leaves Leave | |
Words from a Lentil… on dy’Gwener Haiku | |
ben Alexander on dy’Gwener Haiku |