clover fields of whisper
come slip amongst
my hard earned health
rewards are not forsaken
in the shadowy villas
the grip you call home
blankets of constellations
fall onto my levitated shoulders
fly me to lands above and far away
from stroking of fake
my gullible sensations
fresh tulip buds
immaculate and pure
teach the spotless grass
the shining of colors
grazed across the
earth's wrinkles and errors,
the joy in mistakes
YOU ARE READING
The absence of time: a poetry collection
Poëziemy notebook of thoughts and ideas, etc. I call myself a poet not because I am one, but I aspire to be. (Hence the username)
