Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2010
The forest of our ancients, now long and dead.
concrete halls of supposed brilliance standing in its stead,
a discrete time taking trick by those in power,
causing our earthly mothers life to tick out by the hour.
Luna
Written by
Luna
469
   Cunning Linguist
Please log in to view and add comments on poems