The moonlight
on their backs, the fading
tracks of barefoot sand.
Empty hands,
and the barely
there weight of silence.
::
In April, we poem.
The moonlight
on their backs, the fading
tracks of barefoot sand.
Empty hands,
and the barely
there weight of silence.
::
In April, we poem.
you could almost feel the weight of it.
*beautiful*
Read this as if it’s about Mary and Joseph during certain parts of their journey to Bethlehem for the census and to have that baby.