Poems from row one
It is too cold
And I cannot sleep.
Winter always was a biting feud
Between beauty and body heat.
I look out my window,
Snow rests...
she is young.
thirteen, at the least.
she feels alone. she feels as if she has
no guidance.
no direction.
no gentle touch to show her...
she is young.
thirteen, at the least.
she feels alone. she feels as if she has
no guidance.
no direction.
no gentle touch to show her...
Living life on earth is just poetry in motion
Constant locomotion
Everything is focused on devotion or emotion
Yet there is this notion...