Saturday, February 11, 2012



A limb withered,
Sometime in winter.
I’m finding it hard to find,
A center.
The leaves descend,
Every time they always fall.
It seems that there’s none,
Who could deny their call.

I suppose it’s just nature after all.
All grows as all withers and dies.
In spite how the entire sky,
Will rain, will cry.
Delve too deep the shadows reveal,
The silence they keep.
Knowing will forever haunt,
Your dreams and sleep.
Danny Gunter

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