our salad days caper in the waning. like a twilight itch.
all the windows are all skies that parachutes shun
for fear of falling in the first place,
as heavy as a bell unrung,
we slip into oblivions as cautious as a rhino
at a campfire… while all the tents
are yearning…
for real fire,
Dec 16, 2019
Dec 16, 2019 at 9:09 PM UTC
our salad days caper in the waning. like a twilight itch.
all the windows are all skies that parachutes shun
for fear of falling in the first place,
as heavy as a bell unrung,
we slip into oblivions as cautious as a rhino
at a campfire… while all the tents
are yearning…
for real fire,
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