Member Poem

A breeze washed over the shivering hills allowing them to rise and fall like a mothers gentle hush Quieting the sun-rays to curl within the drops of dew and nestle atop the tree scatching flight upon a beating butterfly and dispersing amongst  spinning  auburn creeks.the wind gently tugged at a mass of wild hair Strays unraveling as invisible finger tips danced through the song birds lullaby.Fingers lost in buttercup sand eyes merely resting where the sky meets the earth laughing in colorful shades and spinning in the watery sunset. I have found happiness.
The story teller is lost in us Don't ask me where he went I see his traces in the words you write But his power is truly spent And all I see now is meaningless Words made simply for the thrill Belted out by a literary killer  Monster, looking for a fill.