Big rocks lean against lasting trees,
Up in a mountain where butterflies freeze,
The mountain goats hop, untamed and free,
Rain runs down the cliff faces and then to the sea.
At night from the highest, blackest peak,
After the black crow has shut his beak,
The mountain goats gather and bleat at the sky,
And way down below, the world passes by.
Deep sea divers, mountain goats, what next!? Anyone have a stranger topic I could poem about? 😊
Do we love the idea of a wanderer, someone far from home,
Because it means that we’d be ok if we were all alone?
A trail of lights left on, catch me and I know I’m near,
To the last bend of the road, leading me on to a place so dear.
I know, I’m sorry, I’m trying to be regular! Anyway, what do you think of my poem? I’m not convinced about the ending, I think it’s a little weak. Tell me what you think! 😊