.
Empty paper swaddles the wanting babes,
Pages crying fill me with thoughts so clean
And light comes down exposing low sages,
Though soiled hands bleed virginal to deem.
Paper casted with doubts on intrepid limbs,
Bleak as the innocent page is scribed black,
For all crowned hands have writ but whim,
To this, their epitaphs reign what pages lack.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
.
Empty paper swaddles the wanting babes,
Pages crying fill me with thoughts so clean
And light comes down exposing low sages,
Though soiled hands bleed virginal to deem.
Paper casted with doubts on intrepid limbs,
Bleak as the innocent page is scribed black,
For all crowned hands have writ but whim,
To this, their epitaphs reign what pages lack.
