Dec 2011
Kettle steaming from the maze,
whistling out louder water.
Poured inside, scarring speech.
Sit without a flame beneath me.
The air now, all silence.
But whispers of storm turned to sorrow.
whistling out louder water.
Poured inside, scarring speech.
Sit without a flame beneath me.
The air now, all silence.
But whispers of storm turned to sorrow.
