The golden sun that rests its body on
the mountain crest, a land, a place
to be lived, to die on. How often do
the clouds cover and hide the
illuminating sun.
Thank you for reading my writing! I hope you will return in the future!
Writer in San Francisco, CA

She claws her way out
of hell, Cerberus howling
breeze warms frigid air
Young buds stretch for blossoming
birds fluttering in the trees
The golden sun that rests its body on
the mountain crest, a land, a place
to be lived, to die on. How often do
the clouds cover and hide the
illuminating sun.
Thank you for reading my writing! I hope you will return in the future!