The wind sings-
she gathers stories, whispering tales of people lost long ago.
she tells them to me
but I forget as soon as she is gone.
lost tales
More by ominouspoet
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winter coming
winter's coming on fast-
better chop enough wood.pluck the last fruits of the harvest-
then say goodnight to the garden,
resting under a blanket of leaves and love. -
Goodbye Whisper
In the vet's office.
My bunny, sedated.
They are coming soon with the second shot.She had a good life. I hope she finds peace.
I'm going to miss her so much.
I love you, Whisper. I'm sorry. -
in the "olden times"
Do you think people 100 years ago, in rural Vermont, looked up at the sky, at the milky way, the moon and all the stars? Do you think they marveled at them, and taught their children the constellations?
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