I passed the tunnel Dividing the self and foreign, And I touched the walls And I torched them;
Your eyes speak volumes of Poe, Your whispers are heavy with jazz, Your kisses remind me of the first rains of March, Your breath the cold wind of a mid-winter night.
I was dropped into a nigh-well, stone on water sound on darkness perforations of light on the blackboard-sky.
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
6/2/2023 8:57:18 AM # 1.0.0.1113