Honey


birds, trees, and everything pretty
They have lost meaning to me
My mind retreats
thinking more and more about destiny
Where am I headed?
Where do I see me?
These questions,
they keep bothering me.

birds, trees, and everything pretty
when the sun shines,
They heal.

Sometimes I feel like walking on the beach
smooth, cold, waves,
splashing against my cold skin
May be the sea breeze could heal me.

birds, trees, and everything pretty.
They try to buy me from their money.
Money is just a fast relief.
Can someone please bring me my honey?

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem