I have died
on the cities
and moors.
Avenues great gold
and
Godly.
Where the antelope
Walk
With eyes pointed
Northerly
The seascape far and
W i d e.
Bright eyes and
Misty days
None are left
They've all turned olive green
As bees fly
down
wind
Whispering with gilted
Tongues
Slithering
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 8:40 PM UTC
I have died
on the cities
and moors.
Avenues great gold
and
Godly.
Where the antelope
Walk
With eyes pointed
Northerly
The seascape far and
W i d e.
Bright eyes and
Misty days
None are left
They've all turned olive green
As bees fly
down
wind
Whispering with gilted
Tongues
Slithering