There's something about her curls,
Or the Wanderlust in her eyes.
A brilliance that shall never Fade
May her literary nature never fail
But Girls of Dust never Fall
They just twirl with the wind
And dance in the air
they know monsters are real
But have not a care
Nor a fear for passion,
But a thirst of the Wandering night
All become beguiled
By the rootless Girls of Light.
YOU ARE READING
The Hum Of Existence
PoetryThere's not much to tell, Except I Have much to say. And I Will everyday, So I've Learned & managed to express , A little more in a lot Less.
