Canopy
- Nigel Paolo Grageda
- Dec 1, 2019
- 1 min read
They have nooks, the trees and teal earth,
so dangles peaceful sob from birth;
Emerald blades shredding gray beam,
halo on branches that redeem;
They are sturdy arms forming wooden hold,
anchored for extending mildness of old;
When growing greens crackle within our sighs,
only the dim shall dry the spring, the cries.