/lit/ - Literature

>>12019181
Ok then. Here’s a little prose poem ditty that I wrote:

Do not forget the love wind carries my friend, for as long as leaves whisper and the clouds are steady in their transit, she is there for you. When I was young, the world made me old. I’d pat the dog and grab my keys. I’d climb in the car to seek my destiny. To train tracks, a bridge, to something final, I would go.

Every time I made the same mistake. She’d pound on the glass, begging me to let her in, stronger and fiercer the closer I got. Every time I would listen. Every time, I would roll down the windows.

Up through my hair and across my face she’d wander, cradling, holding, knowing, whispering in my ears one soft and powerful gentle word.

“Stay”

If for no one else, I am here for you. For in every tilting blade of grass you are there for me. You, oh glorious aspect of my world, who lives in the sky and knows the subtleties of my heart, I love you.