Were we with wings
Warmth wouldn’t weaken.
Worries would wear down
Waking ways would wave.
Wings were wishes
Wept.
Wailed.
Whosoever wanted
Wished wholeheartedly.
We were wandering
Woefully whistling
Wonderfully wholly
With what wrongfully wasn’t.
We wished
We were worthy
While weariness won well.
We worked
We waded
We wrestled ways.
We were
whispering
We were waiting.
We wished wishes worked.
We went,
“When will wishes wipe weaponry?
When will wings wane,
Wax where we walk?”
Were we with wings
We would weave.
We’d water worlds with
wondrous woods.
We’d walk with wishes
without wicked war.
We’d work wholesomely,
welcomed
world’s wind whirring.
When?
When will waiting
wake with warmth?
When will wings wane,
wander with wishers?
When will wings waltz,
wondrously
wordless?
When will we waken
without wanting, whole?
When
Why
Why
When
Wings
Waken
Wink
Waltz.
Wherever wings would,
Wander where we wish.
Wash where we want,
Wail while we wail.
Wings.
Wander with will
Work well
Want well.
When will we witness
windfall withdraw world’s worse?
When
Wings
When.
When will waiting waste?
About the Creator
Bridget Couture
An aspiring author and poet with an unquenchable love for books. Can often be found typing intensely or substituting reading for sleep.
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