Little Branches

steve wardrip
Jul 29, 2017 · 1 min read

By Steve Wardrip

Hiding in the draped wings,
The little yellow bird lights,
She, the lonely wind, sings,
Here comes a stormy night.

Blind hope, had only I known,
I would toss the dice to decide,
Ride the rail until the stars moan,
Never seek revenge, or hide.

Billowing reams of documents,
Half-truths strewn all about.
Then in steamy fit accoutrements,
The lady reporter is devout.

See, nature doesn’t need man,
Never did, certainly never will,
What’s important for we who stand,
Is to keep our backs against the chill.

Laughing out, crying in,
No one said, don’t be sad,
Bouts of depression just begin,
Proving what we never had.

The little branches hold love,
Any tree does the same,
As if it came from above,
This, how a face first became.

Poets Unlimited

Six Years of poetry-only publishing, PoetsUnlimited was a diverse, engaging and authentic poetry magazine. For most of that time a daily publication, it was always diverse and original, and free-to-read by all.

steve wardrip

Written by

Writer of Rumors, Gossip, Lies and Dreams — Poet, Scallywag, Whippersnapper and Galactic Co-Pilot

Poets Unlimited

Six Years of poetry-only publishing, PoetsUnlimited was a diverse, engaging and authentic poetry magazine. For most of that time a daily publication, it was always diverse and original, and free-to-read by all.

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