Flowers grow on staircases in the spring,
and there is no up,
nor downward traveling.
I can stay planted there,
just one dandelion
out of seven hundred roses.
Then that bee named winter
stings my mind with blistered wind,
to erase away my stability.
and there is no up,
nor downward traveling.
I can stay planted there,
just one dandelion
out of seven hundred roses.
Then that bee named winter
stings my mind with blistered wind,
to erase away my stability.
Post a Comment
Be the first to comment on this article!