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Literature Text
At the end of an autumn eve,
he felt the warmest beauty
The trees whispered and moaned
as they were stripped bare
He built his glass house
with the deadwood of seasons past
The elements pass through, unhindered
but he is warmed by memory
Outside the door,
the high was all around him
On the inside,
he had to create it
he felt the warmest beauty
The trees whispered and moaned
as they were stripped bare
He built his glass house
with the deadwood of seasons past
The elements pass through, unhindered
but he is warmed by memory
Outside the door,
the high was all around him
On the inside,
he had to create it
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© 2013 Matthew M. Danielson
from Chapter 2: Long in the Tooth
from Chapter 2: Long in the Tooth
© 2013 - 2024 MMDanielson
Comments9
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This is breathtakingly lovely.