soft and sweet
the ivory played to a beat
straglers stop, hoping to hear
sounds from memories near
on deaths door
all they think about is the poor,
poor piano man
playing his song into the deapths of the night.
3.11.19
YOU ARE READING
untitled.
Poetryjust some poems. not all are mine. eventually i think ill delete this and organize my poems into something else and have one of just ones that inspired me, but for now theres just this, just me sharing things ive needed to share for a while
