Page 52 - Litterateur March 2021
P. 52

Delicate, barely visible, a thin mist


                                           rises above the wetlands,

                                           morning dew, now ascending.




                       Dew                 I soak in the view, ponder on


                      rising               nature, thoughts

                                           floating through, like the breeze.





                                           A bird glides gracefully across the

                                           sky, alighting on a branch.

                                           Why that particular branch? I


                                           cannot tell. The bird moves on,

                                           ascending.




                                           I too have moved here and there,


                                           ascending and descending.

                                           Driven by a longing for love and

                                           belonging.





                                           Nina, my beloved, calls me, I fly

                                           towards her,


                                           Finding my way back home again,

                                           towards bliss, ascending.
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