white as snow
asking forgiveness
scrap books opened
our minds mending
past times in a blue circle
and the coulour green
shines in the meadow
summers breath intoxicating
unbroken schackles
so we flee
into the abyss
found in our dreams
and the world turns
incomplete is the word written
and the dove
white as snow
cries in nights to come
Poetry by kath
Read 433 times
Written on 2007-03-09 at 07:40
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