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romuald-dzemo-ngong
romuald-dzemo-ngong
I still hear the wild cackle of thunder, / swirling through the barren grounds / of the little hamlet, lost between knolls; / a place where a thousand beautiful things are buried.
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The gleeful laughter was like myrrh, Dewy, unprovoked, Mouth opened, like a gaping hole In Elysium…. She laughed, and I watched, She laughed like life was bereft of pain; I looked at her… and I laughed; Cause her laughter bore a spell.
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Jun 6, 2012
Jun 6, 2012 at 12:06 AM UTC
romuald-dzemo-ngong
The Laughter
The gleeful laughter was like myrrh, Dewy, unprovoked, Mouth opened, like a gaping hole In Elysium…. She laughed, and I watched, She laughed like life was bereft of pain; I looked at her… and I laughed; Cause her laughter bore a spell.
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