Traveling

not finished

The hooves of my horse,

crunch upon the fallen leaves.

There's a song in the wind

that brings me closer to an ancient glen.

 

Calling me, beckoning me to follow.

The sky reflects my mind,

with it's dark orange, and it's pink hue.

While the harvest has begun under the glow

of the sun.

Reviews

[poetic soul]

the harvest has begun under the glow of the sun.... nice take on the subject.. good one.. :)

Regards,
Poetic Soul