...
Sub zero temperatures
linger on the breeze that...
In winters tightening grip we face
these dull, grey days in lassitude and...
Close your eyes,
loose your mind...
This woman is not a woman.
she is a sort of bendable agony...
With pen on hand, I wrote my heart on lines
as Nights came walking, running with my Days...
I lost my voice...
when my fingers stopped typing on a keyboard...
...
Do you see that peach on that tree?
The one that hangs so tightly free...
She wrote scripture; as he sang her a memory.
under a moon that was meant for dark souls...
12th November, 2015.
I am a writer who...
My poems
like the moon...