Jan 2018
Hollowed murmurs crawl
From shaken wells you've sprouted
From; ventured farther than most
who've pined for gold noons.
They call, reverent,
To the passion-oranges n'
decaying yellows,
to wrap you from winters foul grip.
But fail. And lay frozen in powdery
sweet dusk.
From shaken wells you've sprouted
From; ventured farther than most
who've pined for gold noons.
They call, reverent,
To the passion-oranges n'
decaying yellows,
to wrap you from winters foul grip.
But fail. And lay frozen in powdery
sweet dusk.
Summer glows but it's pallor stumbles into a glinting Autumn but then slips into a dead Winter. See Springs harkens to Summer's Ghosts and his rebirth.
