Jan 2021
When rooms sleep and birds carry heartache to trees, when light
is gone and peace is woven into dreams: I will build myself a nest
and unfold the poem I stole. I will taste with care the words you
chose, and pretend you wrote them for me.
(I will love, I will love, I will love)
is gone and peace is woven into dreams: I will build myself a nest
and unfold the poem I stole. I will taste with care the words you
chose, and pretend you wrote them for me.
(I will love, I will love, I will love)
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4184292/thief/
(One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a funeral, four for birth, five for heaven, six for hell, seven for a devil's tale to tell)
(One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a funeral, four for birth, five for heaven, six for hell, seven for a devil's tale to tell)
