Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2015
A familiar sense that I cannot describe
Memories of a forgotten tribe
Their music gives fortune as stories are told
Their music gives warmth in a time that is cold

'I lost myself on that November night’
Rings so true, for I thought that I might
Climb into the staves and silently shout
‘I swear to never, ever come out'
Lady Ace
Written by
Lady Ace
362
   JS Clark and Ariel Baptista
Please log in to view and add comments on poems