The little bird flew down toward my heat,
it took a present for it's starving child.
A throne I made upon a rocky seat.
The trees let loose the whistle of the wild,
against an azure-crimson battlement.
My nose awash with nature's verdant scent.
Before I sleep I promise no respite,
as clocks tick-tock in counting away light.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
The little bird flew down toward my heat,
it took a present for it's starving child.
A throne I made upon a rocky seat.
The trees let loose the whistle of the wild,
against an azure-crimson battlement.
My nose awash with nature's verdant scent.
Before I sleep I promise no respite,
as clocks tick-tock in counting away light.
