Rain above, dirt under feet
talking more than the steps are near
to a point where the end is sweet
the race's always lost vs the deer.
ukulele chords prevent the rain to hurt
voice as soft inspired breeze eager to sleep
many kms before I sleep but
don't worry no dark clouds left in heap.
Through the decadent woods I think
run with Matt & trees never lacking ink.
O.O.W
*
12-07-11
01-27-12
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, like it, a great write.