Nov 2020
Clouds have disappeared
And the birds have flown away
What's left is the sun
That dries the rivers and ponds
And leaves me to thirst
And leaves me with no shelter
So it is inside
The realm of creation
And so I harvest my tears
And the birds have flown away
What's left is the sun
That dries the rivers and ponds
And leaves me to thirst
And leaves me with no shelter
So it is inside
The realm of creation
And so I harvest my tears
Trying to write when you have a writer's block
