Tuesday, November 26, 2013
A foul growl upsets erringly,
The feelings of shadows are afloat,
Then foul happenings cause us to cease,
Feet are the only key of the woods.
My loves and swords marry,
Words should own their lot,
But heavens and earth shall carry,
And the words there are like ghosts.
Foul and hard are the tears in the boat,
Hushing us with the surprise,
Feeding the earth with soil and hurry,
Hesitations run quick.