Morning was patient with us — her and me,
Within earful white walls and solemn
gardens.
Poetry reigned.
She: How do you submit your thoughts —
on a gold platter with a prophet's head
and a skin of dead wine?
......
Morning was patient with us — her and me,
Within earful white walls and solemn
gardens.
Poetry reigned.
She: How do you submit your thoughts —
on a gold platter with a prophet's head
and a skin of dead wine?
......