Grayscale city...
Snivels running down
Through long-piped nose
Along the ice-melt scratches
Across the asphalt-lipsticked lips
To mouth hatches...
No sign of grief,
And no betrayed belief,
No winter virus flu,
Not even spring in view...
That's Nature puzzle...
We, in striving fetches,
Mixed head and tail in the season matches.
Grayscale city...
© Copyright: Jasmine, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107021901478
Свидетельство о публикации №107021901478
Рецензии