receive the king in him be intimidated by royalty in your hands welcome the responsibility, heave it up and walk the miles ahead happily
Advertisements
March croons again and again But I would rather greet the sun Or play with the wind blown dirt March whispers again and again "Another number is here" Does she know I can barely get two and four to agree? March... Continue Reading →
They cry "beautiful, beautiful” And I cringe Grateful for myopia As I tighten my turban Who dare calls a thing so imperfect Beautiful?
I am not the predictable clouds Or the punctual sunrise
Recent Comments