"Storm"
Why the wind blows
high the pensive brail,
An arousing motion of apathey
Where the flower grows
wear the petals flail,
An open sky of melancholy
When the water pose
bend the poinient hail,
A musing cloud of mutability
How the fire loathes
sow the preemtive wail,
A perpetual state of corruptibility
2 comments:
Nice blog....if you were a girl.
Knitter is jealous. Nice poem.
Post a Comment