Blog, Gothic, Nature, Poetry, spirituality, Writing

Washed Away

The rain returns,

To serenade me,

As I sit amidst a drought,

Of life,

Whose roots dig desperately,

To the past,

Wherein the scent of perfect days

Is returned from desiccation,

By simple droplets,

Each a looking glass,

Into avenues I long to walk again.

 

 

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