You never thought you’d
mourn the loss of one hour,
only a single turn
of the minute hand.
But how mistaken you were,
when your brightest noon
vanished behind the tops
of the desolate pines.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
You never thought you’d
mourn the loss of one hour,
only a single turn
of the minute hand.
But how mistaken you were,
when your brightest noon
vanished behind the tops
of the desolate pines.
