deepundergroundpoetry.com

A midday work.

I realize my song was in vain
where wood and grapes fall by
the Night side of courture where
thee midnight hay day of the morning
sun in the dungeons of the eons
of in the rest of solitude of soul in
the face of evening sun ,where the
night lurches by.
Let me by the light in the evest of
the dawn of the morning fortitude.
Let me stay by the night of the beetle's song
where she comes back from work of wood paper,
but don't get distracted by autumn.
Written by AlisVolatPropriis8
Published
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