Let's not go to work this morning
put our backpacks on both shoulders
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The Angel of Mons - Chapter eight
Eight
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- 520 reads
Now we breath the Hyacinths' sweeter air...
Now we breathe the Hyacinths' sweeter air Framed by arches and not rivalry We have only a dream of the Paradise Garden That held to heart its House of Hell Needled me with a knowledge
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- 515 reads
In The Rain
She takes a deep breath and stops running and spinning. She stands there a second and waits for something. She looks straight ahead. The whole night is dark. There are no lights any where.
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On the brow of the hill
I saw him on the brow of the hill. He was as unfamiliar as my direction, but he interested me more than most,
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The Oak Lane Inn (Part Two)
No one at home when I tapped at the window He's deaf in the parlour but I didn't know then How he was framed by the shutters, the rafters, the blinds Fallen by flowers within the Oak Lane Inn
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- 576 reads
Life's Not Bottled
Self explanatory
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The Bitter, The Sweet.
A piece of nostalgic prosetry
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Velvet Colours
Read and consider.
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- 1011 reads