I long to travel:
Wanderlust tugs at my soul.
Maine screams my name,
The ocean calls for its siren far away.
Salem calls me,
Whispering tales of young girls lost to time.
Montreal commands me:
The lady of the Cathedral awaits me.
Virginia cries, longing for my return.
Her rivers swell with tears.
The Painted Desert shrivels under the sun's harsh gaze,
wishing its adventurer's return.
Posted in response to the challenge Spring: Writing Contest.
Music is so ancient.
It's so odd to think that
The sweet lilting of the flute,
Played through my speakers, read from a CD-
Could be so close to the sound of reed pipes!-
Played by children dancing in the forest.
Landslide
A song, by Fleetwood Mac.
Sung by Stevie Nicks.
The kind of song that evokes such nostalgia in me,
A kind of gentle pain for the memories of the past,
And a desire to embrace my future.
snow,
again.
I suppose Demeter is upset,
Persephone isn't back yet.
Hades told her they'd come,
And so bloomed the cherry plum,
But Hades didn't show.
and now,
snow.
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