Confessions of a Selfish Poetess
A poem written with rusty words,
Its rhymes like melting rainbows,
A poem that paints a thousand images,
A poem that is hope—
Like the glistening beams of sunlight to me,
A poem that smells of those old golden pages.
A poem that lies
On a page like a dead body on soft brown earth.
Reading a poem that...
Its rhymes like melting rainbows,
A poem that paints a thousand images,
A poem that is hope—
Like the glistening beams of sunlight to me,
A poem that smells of those old golden pages.
A poem that lies
On a page like a dead body on soft brown earth.
Reading a poem that...