Out here,
poem is a ***** word
covered in silt
kicked up from the fields
caught in the breeze
they 'cling, cling, cling'
through dangling wind chimes
of rusty silverware
drifting away
like unwelcome guests
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 10:43 AM UTC
Out here,
poem is a ***** word
covered in silt
kicked up from the fields
caught in the breeze
they 'cling, cling, cling'
through dangling wind chimes
of rusty silverware
drifting away
like unwelcome guests
