Sunday, March 24, 2013

BYGONE DAYS


At the whim
Thought the Sun
As moon

Nothing resisted
The beam so hot, or
The gleam so cold

Flight lovely
Fluttered the waves
And parked me THERE

Was not alone, and
Reaped the harvest
Sowed in days bygone
Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)