Dried Ocean
I become absent minded of the speed
Creeping on the clouds
They pour on my dome, only to dilate
Central station taught me not to cooperate with plain oceans
Highway tolls speak otherwise
Only to shower upon familiar chords
To whirl once again; falling silent once more
It is communicated
- silence
👁 9💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.