WATER
Water,
passing movement,
scarce memory
when there is no shortage...
Current that binds,
that wets with joy
what a soft mark,
and it's always new,
when it passes...
it's never the same
water... !
Copyright © Alkas Poetry | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment