Poems from snewman67
I see my childhood and see nothing but a mystery.
A pile of poetry books,
A lonely flower growing wild in a solitary garden,
and no water-...
What happens when he's so close
but so far away
and you can't do anything but
Stare.
And hope.
And try to find the words that never Were,...
The End is the Place where most Things go
to Die.
at least that's what I thought.
When the lights of dusk fall across our faces
after a...