When mornings Winter wakes I'm lost, blind
meadows to valleys blurred with seas
the need to cross is no release
betting on the continuation through time
I feel myself shiver, waiting for the change shores
cleaning then healing Bitemarks and Bloodstains
Mr Weather's done helped by his accomplice Mr Maritime...
OCW
*
20-01-2013
15.20
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem