Movement ceases, air stills
a sinking feeling molds
and takes hold of the listener
a creak, a whisper.
Something is coming.
Thank you for reading! Please follow or subscribe!
Want more? Check out my Patreon page!
-Alina
Writer in San Francisco, CA

Slid into heaven
Thanks to raven wings and bones
It is a dark room
Scattering of beads, thunder
I wake in the morn
poem written in Tanka form
Movement ceases, air stills
a sinking feeling molds
and takes hold of the listener
a creak, a whisper.
Something is coming.
Thank you for reading! Please follow or subscribe!
Want more? Check out my Patreon page!
-Alina