Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2014
When you spoke,
butterflies
followed.
Your beautiful accent
floated
on the glorious breeze,
fluttering
between the tallest trees.
Your pitch could
never be duplicated,
the melody of your spirit
shook the very ground
beneath my feet
& that's impossible
with so many voices.
Save me,
I'm falling.
Jonny Angel
Written by
Jonny Angel  GRB090423
(GRB090423)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems