by Pich Nettra | April 24, 2018
Poetry Contest 2018

Still Leaves

I stood beside my windowsill 

And looked beyond the quiet road

That separated deserts

And lead us to our homes

Far and long, the pathway lead

To mountains full with leaves that said,

"Rustle, rustle," again and again,

"Come through this way, and find the road's end."

But here, I'll stay

Behind the hills

Among the desert, standing still

Where cacti collide

And mountains divide

The world between me

And the rustling leaves.



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