Greg Tirkey


You In Me

She will feel you in the mist of cloud,
When the sun will down and its head shall be bowed.
Her tears shall appear on the tips of grassy ground,
After the autumn, when the rain makes sound.

Why do you stand on the bed of snow ford?
And look for her in an unmarked road.
When you know it is difficult to assert the mind,
You have grown the wings for flying blind.

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