broken minds
to the sea
in a coulored haze
as spring runs us down
and the man sells his soul
to the quiet hunter
needing absolution
dresses white as snow
roses red
June is a month for hope
so we talk of freedom
copying clouds floating
painting pictures
in our broken minds
and shoes shining
polished by our longing
and me a name
I once knew
you a place I visit
in nights of fear
found in strangers eyes
Poetry by kath
Read 479 times
Written on 2007-03-10 at 07:59
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