THE STORM

Photo by Matheus Bertelli
 
 
Be me, a life, a fleeting spark
In the hollow hive, 'neath the willow’s bark
Breath of wind, and the branches sigh
Dreams drip slow from the amber sky


Slivering down the temptress river
Chasing whispers, quakes that shiver
Maid of vines, your roots run deep
Sonnet written where shadows sleep


Slashing waves, in a sea of sound
Echoes crash, no solid ground
Footsteps stumble, the spiral turns
Life alight, yet slowly burns

Tree hive hums, its secrets spun
Threads of gold, the web’s begun
Slipping through, a carousel bound
Round and round, lost now found


Slivering down the temptress river
Chasing whispers, quakes that shiver
Maid of vines, your roots run deep
Sonnet written where shadows sleep


Be me, a life, in fleeting sway
Where time dissolves, and night meets day
The hive still sings, its ancient hymn
And we are woven, limb to limb
 
 
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