Poetry from Brianna Dawn.


the librarian tree
towers over me
leaves for books
i asked, could you lend me
one to look through?
as i stared up at his arms
fumbling with books
in the sun
he gave them freely,
and all the greens turned
into the most beautiful
gold and violet hues i’ve
ever seen, he continued
to bleed until he bled red,
then all were brown and the soil
wore them like coats and scarves
yet all of the words he said
were written in the breeze
and whispered magic into my head

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

Basic HTML is allowed. Your email address will not be published.

Subscribe to this comment feed via RSS

%d bloggers like this: