ADRIFT, with my chaotic struggles,
i collapse into a bipoler ghetto, and
find broken strings, and dirty books,
and a friend with black smoke....
ADRIFT, into the night, i fall like
a failing priest, and wait for the
free gift ...................
the free gift of love........
adrift no more.........
Hi David, I think you have to kind of look for Love, It doesn't really drift in and work on it. Take care care David Unique and Excellent poem.
AND AFTER YOU FOUND LOVE, WERE YOU STILL ADRIFT? LOL! NICE WORK dAVID, MY GOOD FRIEND'''''''''''fjr
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Frank asked the question I was thinking, a splendid read.