By
chance
we
speak
of
things apart
elaborately
of
poetry
foreign
elegantly
deafening
songs
stories
music
dancing
dis
rhythmically
pricking
threads
flaunting
artefacts
buried
under
sand
for
centuries
in
seconds
dissolved
by
design
presently
knowledge
held
sway
deliberately
unrecorded
blissfully
reconsigned
all-over
again
clematis
awaits
pending
patiently
here
.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.