Sunday, July 25

Such wondrous things are my joy to behold
As eventide's splendor, as the sun of gold
Descends the ladder of heaven, casting
A long shadow of night everlasting.


Tis a balmy breeze that soughs in the dell,
Lively, full of loight, and soft as well.
Throw behind you the bones of your mother
And you'll live on, if not in this life, then in another.

No comments:

Post a Comment