A String Quartet

The goad the sting the things that bring
The death of Light, the other Night
Someone singing through a window
Down by the River a far off meadow
An abstract willow weeping low
Sweeping rows of tears no one knows
Who hears those words so tenderly
Spoken were only a verse
Pieces of string unraveling
The goad the sting the things that bring •°》•



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 786 times
Written on 2017-10-13 at 15:55

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text