Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2019
the night with its sandman
and rivers of dream, hangs
pendulous and remote,
cools like a mist far from
the day with its
sun of fire and withering
heat, its ghosts the shaking
clouds, its flowers the trickle
over rock of a burgeoning
stream.
29/07
beth fwoah dream boleyn
Written by
beth fwoah dream boleyn  England
(England)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems