Sleepy graves of horses,
are happy in the sun.
A symphony of bees,
takes away the loneliness.
All the eagles have been mended.
Whispered words of silver,
rise up through the soil.
The dusty laugh of some old dog,
takes away the loneliness.
The sadness has been wound up by the tree knots.
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 5:30 PM UTC
Sleepy graves of horses,
are happy in the sun.
A symphony of bees,
takes away the loneliness.
All the eagles have been mended.
Whispered words of silver,
rise up through the soil.
The dusty laugh of some old dog,
takes away the loneliness.
The sadness has been wound up by the tree knots.