Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
it is the days we do not speak of that turn our lives. it is the cold which makes us yearn for houses made of woolen. we are caught in the endless bric-a-brac, the absurdity of it all. we are the children of men-in-winter, mad sailors and silent snow.
0
Dec 3, 2010
Dec 3, 2010 at 8:47 AM UTC
We Are The Children
it is the days we do not speak of that turn our lives. it is the cold which makes us yearn for houses made of woolen. we are caught in the endless bric-a-brac, the absurdity of it all. we are the children of men-in-winter, mad sailors and silent snow.
copyright 2004, Adelaide Dyson
Written by
Dec 3, 2010
Dec 3, 2010 at 8:47 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem