There will always be an island
the island of readers
unbiased
who come to my writing as nymphs and dryads
to the cool of a forest
and the shade of a waterfall
to enjoy the words'
sound
cascading like water
picking and eating them
like berries
that stain their lips red
with their juice
and because of these and the naiads
who quench their thirst at my poems' fountains
because of their refreshment
I breathe
I live
1 comment:
Beautiful poem
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