Its the dance of the words that brings the blue of the sky. It is now purple, and the world is still and wordless, but the birds are many.
When I speak, it is like a void, a non-existence of hunger.
Fathers, be good to your daughters;
daughters will love like you do.
you are the strength and the weight of her world
poetry
Stream her with roses and daisies, dear mother,
let all that she speak be all that that she hears.
For no higher, no higher let her forehead doth grow;
and so dote, dote my mother, my mother so dear
and let her run free with a conscience so clear
Tagbox
Listening
Tuesday, 26 June 2007
unknowingly
When I speak, it is like a void, a non-existence of hunger.
and kissed me till the morning light