The White gull crys,
the wind blows.
Away from the sea I must go,
to the path that now calls me home.
YOU ARE READING
The Beauty Of The Night And Other Poems
PoesíaPoetry that I wrote myself, Weaved in my mind. That no one else saw, For it was late when the inspiration came . But now there's more than just three, There here for you to read. And I hope that, You enjoy them all.
The Voyager.
The White gull crys,
the wind blows.
Away from the sea I must go,
to the path that now calls me home.
