Trust

 Calm is the wind,

 Never a dull blemish,

 Calloused into the land.

“Blunt the sword”,

 Cried the makers of peace,

 Softly into the dark.

 All this you hear,

 As you breath,

 Your last,

 Poisoned breath.

T

Tanner_L

NH

16 years old

More by Tanner_L

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    What makes the bird sing,

    Playfully like an April breeze,

    Living freely,

    Fluttering about in the Great Blue Sky.

     

    Not standing the Dead of winter,

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  • Poetry

    By Tanner_L

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    You are the fire that warms me,

    The desire for my shaking heart;

    Your beauty and grace,  

    So unimaginable yet,

    As if it was a radiant glow,

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