solitary dreams floating
by the banks of dreary eyed,stone faced
rivers divine.
They float with the august rush,down rapids,
into ravines, where the raven caws
and the chirrup of the thrush I hear,so docile.
Mountain tops, with little green people
swaying this way and that
lonely valleys, the barren summer nights
my thoughts furnished by the ocean
they soar up, the misty moonlight.
No comments:
Post a Comment