Photo by Adam Cain on Unsplash
The sun rose bright
In the horizon
Spilling gold on
Ebbing tide.
They woke with
Tangled limbs still weighted
And lids that wrinkled
In the light.
It dawned to be
The day of changes,
When revolution would be
Put aside.
They’ll find their breath,
And mend their fences.
They’re family now.
They will not
Fight.
For the dVerse Poetics challenge: revolution
tucked away in the mountains
History of the Bloomingdale area on Manhattan's Upper West Side
A creative miscellany of mythic fantasies
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never judge a girl by her weight
original fiction and rhyme
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Life in progress
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Na'ama Yehuda 
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