You do not read my poetry.
Though it lay open before you as all the springtimes flowers.
To pick just 'fore its prime.
It holds the very heart of me.
And even just one breath of it, would multiply the hours,
If you just but took the time.
Feb 11, 2012
Feb 11, 2012 at 10:43 PM UTC
You do not read my poetry.
Though it lay open before you as all the springtimes flowers.
To pick just 'fore its prime.
It holds the very heart of me.
And even just one breath of it, would multiply the hours,
If you just but took the time.
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