Tuesday, July 3, 2018
Crescent Moon Comments
Rating: ★5.0
Confronted with the specter of death on every face
as I crawl between a fallen sky and a famished earth
...
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8/2/2025 8:05:07 PM # 1.0.0
body is rocked by threats of burns, blasts or crashes a mind emaciated by pining, pondering, races in wilderness; you wait for me, the mythical bride of morn my soul to adorn wiping every dot of anxiety from face and nursing every burn. crying over nature. and indirectly speaking about how to preserve this great nature. thank u dear poet. tony