The sun hangs low
Casting a golden hue.
Ripples escape the dash,
Causing a wave of nostalgia.
With the call of days past,
And the nebulous future,
Lays the content of the present.
Relaxation held within,
A stream of consciousness.
Whispers and wisps,
Of pleasurable times,
Call and kiss the mind,
With sounds and syllables.
May the peace envelop you.
Poem: The Sun Hangs Low
Published
unknownclimate 