L'aura del Campo

Molt [357]

Molt

Hollowed shells, an empty husk,
of use once but now — no longer,
like fur that kept us warm in winter,
left behind come vernal breezes.

When will you leave your aging husk?
When will you join us in the stars?
Transformation's normal, needed.
Death comes to all no-longer-useful forms.

© Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.357] (9.februar.2022)

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EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT  (13+) This is a poetry sharing activity for expression and entertainment! #2232169 by Solace.Bring