Share it Please
|Photo Credit: Sebastian Gabriel|
The wand’ring storm clouds high up in the sky,
the little running blue grey birds in line,
green leaves that pop as sky veiled, seems to cry,
the wind’s cool gentle lick, of sun and brine;
Poppies of orange and yellow tulips bright,
the river’s gasp while running off the brink,
the mountain’s rocky shoulders, twilight bathed
a shell’s smooth inside surface soft and pink;
Stars brightly lit on heaven’s calm, dark face,
cold lace of stars from winter’s sky falls down,
the sea’s waves playful, warm in sand’s embrace.
the petals soft, a flower’s tiny crown.
From paintings, sonnets, even prose these shine.
Yet, I hear whisp'ring. These are works of Mine.