Briefly gorgeous

So its true you’re gone
like the wind of Scotland.
Have you traveled far?
I am tired of songs with no tunes
clouds with flood of rain.
Everything is as sour as bile
as sweet as lime.
This one aches me to heart
a growing discomfort with no laughter.
Wherever you are, play the same song
the one that makes my feet talk,
the one that wakes gods who fall asleep.
I am done grieving in darkness
glow a little man, please glow dear star.

Ruddapoet

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