Categories
Poetry

To Live

The wind will call and you will know.

And it won’t tell you why,

and it won’t tell you what

but you will follow

blindly,

hopefully,

until the sun peaks ’round the bend

and the horizon dazzles

in ways far beyond possible.

Indigo, apricot nights.

Warm breath on starlit cheeks.

And you will know

(oh, you will know)

what it was like

to have lived.

Photo by Vlada Karpovich on Pexels.com

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s