It was mid-summer 1880 and a gust
caught my tan boater then flew
seeking refuge where lost hats go
i startled too much and blushed
then common sense became rage
i cannot ever be your goliath
for such a weak Soul.
:: 12.30.2022 ::
It was mid-summer 1880 and a gust
caught my tan boater then flew
seeking refuge where lost hats go
i startled too much and blushed
then common sense became rage
i cannot ever be your goliath
for such a weak Soul.
:: 12.30.2022 ::
EDEN IS A GARDEN
whose soil knows
not thorns
As Seasons are shadows
that cast upon lives
and dreams
i am not wishing
i am not weeping
i am not dreaming
but i am still here.
:: 12.30.2022 ::