A ropey grip,
So I wont fall.
The warm breeze,
His breath, a yawn, a growl.
I swing in and out of his deathly pout.
His tongue a mattress if I should drop,
Hurricane or storm,
cold then hot-
Weather or not,
I’ll still be swinging.
Aug 7, 2011
Aug 7, 2011 at 6:49 AM UTC
A ropey grip,
So I wont fall.
The warm breeze,
His breath, a yawn, a growl.
I swing in and out of his deathly pout.
His tongue a mattress if I should drop,
Hurricane or storm,
cold then hot-
Weather or not,
I’ll still be swinging.
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