To lie gazing upon the stars,
Among the whispering pines,
This little space of ours,
In between the time lines.
Of seasons apart from why,
Questions pondered not bled,
Doubts with out increasing,
The mouth which has been fed.
If sins a reason,
Dirts dog tired,
Pounding heads are pleasing,
And the moon will have had lied,
Tired maples and days of haze,
Become summer once again,
Splashing comfort in the waves,
Of all in time my friend...............
FTBAS 1.11.13
No comments:
Post a Comment