To The Eyes Of The Newcomer

a green plain
a series of hills
some big mountains
tips reaching the clouds
the sun shines
the wind blows
a leaf falls
the first touch of the hand
on the petal of a white flower
whiteness
and blueness and scents of flowers
and trees

cool, warm,
in solitude

poem by Ric S. BastasaReport problemRelated quotes
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