Beach House - Poem by Bronte Casablancas
Thick waves beat me down -
Gray sky slings and sings to me,
But still I stand,
Blank hues and empty windowpanes
All across the winter's breath.
Spring. Ice melts and
I groan, reaching up from the burden,
Stretching to the sky
Slowly bluing above me.
Waters warm and draw children -
Pattering down my halls and singing sweet melodies to the sun,
But older now.
Gentler than before.
Back door bangs more often than not,
And I am happy -
Red grin welcoming the company,
Peeling paint like wrinkles to the
Old man's smile until
Leaves burn and I am sifting, waiting.
I echo birds and sink down, patient,
Until my love can sing again.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You