Spring
No germinating spring time hastecan compare to the anguish of leaving
with dazzling daylight humming
at the end of another coming.
The soft earth moves with ease,
a bed beckons at you and see
the land has always been who you are
and the blanket has been waiting.
Poetry by Bob
Read 580 times
Written on 2010-05-12 at 09:07
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John Ashleigh |
| Texts |
 by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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