May 2016
He's a stone statue
on the old wire fence,
onyx eyes staring
as I sky-gaze..
Too white for rain,
too grey for snow.
I turn, tread noisily
and his heart's
a remembered flame
in the dying bush.
on the old wire fence,
onyx eyes staring
as I sky-gaze..
Too white for rain,
too grey for snow.
I turn, tread noisily
and his heart's
a remembered flame
in the dying bush.
