Muse |
Muse |
The trees are fairy, With their spindles reaching to the sky To fly. Or hands that stretch into A thousand fingers Or veins of a lung waiting For a sparkle of crisp air To breathe in and gasp At the surprise Of light. Delicate roots yawn and At dawn come alive, The bugs and beetles Dart far east and west Where the wind blows Steadily. Buds close their scent-selling Stalls for the night, Their customers buzz back to Their hive. The calm lilac of the sun As dusk arrives on the Horizon and birds flutter Home to hide in the Nooks of their cousins, Mystical trees. Originally written in 2012, age 17
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AuthorSamantha is a doctoral researcher researching the power of figurative language in advertising, social media, and mobile technology. Copyright © 2022
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