Jun 2020
The roses kneel
Before the trees
The shadowed reveal
Before the breeze.
The smell of rain
In the sky.
My tears are gone
And the well is dry.
Why am I welcomed
By burning pages
And culling voices?
Before the trees
The shadowed reveal
Before the breeze.
The smell of rain
In the sky.
My tears are gone
And the well is dry.
Why am I welcomed
By burning pages
And culling voices?
