I stare out of my cubicle window
to see a sheet of solid water
creeping, building, cragging, steeping
I come to, from out a merry winterland
and feel the urge to write a poem
about a scene worth painting.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
I stare out of my cubicle window
to see a sheet of solid water
creeping, building, cragging, steeping
I come to, from out a merry winterland
and feel the urge to write a poem
about a scene worth painting.
12 March 2014 - R.I.P. Bob Ross