Jul 2012
In blackness deep
and howling quiet
softly creeps
this hour, still.
Hazy dreams and
pots of gold;
freedom and calamity.
false alarms of
death at door
cut my days
in half already!
and howling quiet
softly creeps
this hour, still.
Hazy dreams and
pots of gold;
freedom and calamity.
false alarms of
death at door
cut my days
in half already!
