Even the pitch black night
Has a silver moon
The ores are burning for seven times
But it'll be pure silver soon
The frosted glass
Has a silver line of snow
Through the barren crevices
There's a silvery river running slow
When the road is dark
It's lit by silver reflectors shining
So, when darkness threatens, remember
Every cloud has a silver lining
YOU ARE READING
MUSINGS OF A SOLIVAGANT
PoetryJust like her solivagant mind wanders and the soft vernalagnia colors her cheeks, rosy - poetry swells from her inside. What her camera captures, spins words of hope and despair in her. Where the heart bleeds on to the paper, there springs poetry...
