deepundergroundpoetry.com
gentle way
there is a dove still
sat alone frost like feet slow upon tin
chimney smoke
choked heat warming feathers night
inside a small heart pumps light
flaming the wee birds eyes
through a gloomy society bright
reaching me sleeping
past midnight
sat alone frost like feet slow upon tin
chimney smoke
choked heat warming feathers night
inside a small heart pumps light
flaming the wee birds eyes
through a gloomy society bright
reaching me sleeping
past midnight
Published 27th Sep 2017
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