Conversations with the Moon
calmed him for what may, tomorrow.
If what may,
may be him,
sweet sorrow.
Identify the lost sheep,
amongst the wools in heap;
and perhaps, the farmer might have
stained his hands more than
he had bargained and borrowed.
He still dared, that night, to swallow.
(d.r.)
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Black & Poisonous
Poesía"She had 50 days left to live. She had 5000 words left to say." A compilation of 50-word poems by a child who longed to see a better future than the one they've set for themselves. Each piece takes 12 seconds to read. #833 - 27/05/17 #687 - 28/05...
