Larkspur rose with azure head
in that blondish vacancy
by the metro line:
you were a summer.
But now those withered faces
are mute, closed for business,
peacock's burst plumes:
you are a winter.
Mar 16, 2021
Mar 16, 2021 at 5:11 PM UTC
Larkspur rose with azure head
in that blondish vacancy
by the metro line:
you were a summer.
But now those withered faces
are mute, closed for business,
peacock's burst plumes:
you are a winter.
