Max Ehrmann's "Desiderata"
poetry is not dead.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Relics Drawn
He had her figured out. Staring at the sea. The light contrast to magic nights, Rays of colour break through cloud. Her socks are wet with salt. Not feeling, Knowing connection? A cold character on a clifface. Light colouring the pages. Brightness in her eyes. A pain that your not sure is real, stabbing at your side.
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1 comment:
Lovely literature! i love the last sentence i feel like that alot about what i write at least
keep up the lovely works
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