Cicada
By Noah R
Published 14 July 2022
The hush of hazy noon,
a suffocating blanket of
grief and times long past,
too late to hope.
Silky leaves shimmering,
an ocean of judgement, lest these tides
carry broken bodies to the stony shore.
The strange chorus of the
uncrowned rulers of our
realm; envy the ones who
feel not the pain of cognition.
The open sunlit skies, soaring,
streaky clouds crowning light blue
heavens, a wonderland of
endless thoughts and dreams,
an oasis out of reach,
hazy once-loved memories
setting with the weeping sun.