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bianca-8Poems
the serenades of a wet crow at the edge of a living cliff full of light and buds heard only by those blackened with drops of ink holding a mourning handkerchief now look again at the top of the tree another one is taking flight.
0
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 10:27 AM UTC
take a seat and listen
the serenades of a wet crow at the edge of a living cliff full of light and buds heard only by those blackened with drops of ink holding a mourning handkerchief now look again at the top of the tree another one is taking flight.
#mourning#black#crow
bianca-8
Written by
bianca-8
17/F
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 10:27 AM UTC
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