Thursday, September 25, 2008

The Penultimate Day Comments

Rating: 0.0

Endless cold, sad empty winters have melted out into the wharfe,
since we last shared cigarettes and hopes, by the rhythm of the weir.
Your mood was so serene and strange that day.
You spoke to me in code and I just listened in delight.
...
Read full text

Neil Graham Marsden
COMMENTS
Close
Error Success