I used to count the Acers
honed red striped wood,
offering hope in depths of February,
aeons of breakfast wishes
played changes that cannot be backed down
any more than my russet creations,
I long for companionship
as earthy as bottled Bordeaux ,
only if my crocus mia pathway
enfuses with the sound
of the incurious contendedly arriving
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 7:29 PM UTC
I used to count the Acers
honed red striped wood,
offering hope in depths of February,
aeons of breakfast wishes
played changes that cannot be backed down
any more than my russet creations,
I long for companionship
as earthy as bottled Bordeaux ,
only if my crocus mia pathway
enfuses with the sound
of the incurious contendedly arriving
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