Crawling, The Horizon

Crawling over the horizon,
Painted fingers grasping trees,
Pull yourself over, breathe
The morning wind into your veins;
Soften the night chilled earth
With the thud of light;
Come to life.
It’s better on this side.

by Ronny Self

Other poems of SELF (19)

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.