Whisper War
Tomorrow ill exhale this glacial morning whisper,
the winter breeze exhausts the sound.
The trees of battle are at war when i kissed her,
I feel the courage and pain that fertilizes this ground.
Ending in Savannah, the bridges cris-cross,
beginning in the sand of those carolina beaches.
The glass structure that punctured our sail,
(
Read more... )
Comments 1
Reply
Leave a comment