I shall not sing a May song. A May song should be gay. I’ll wait until November And sing a song of gray. I’ll wait until November. That is the time for me. I’ll go out in the frosty dark
My heart of silk is filled with lights, with lost bells, with lilies and bees. I will go very far, farther than those hills, farther than the seas, close to the stars, To beg Christ the Lord to give back
Resurrecting Poetry Ptuesday because I came across this poem and loved it.
Carefully the leaves of autumn sprinkle down the tinny sound of little dyings and skies sated of ruddy sunsets or roseate dawns roil ceaselessly in cobweb greys and turn to black for comfort. Only lovers see the fall a
Well, it happened, with my talented and wonderful friend Christina on board, I fell off updating this blog myself. I’ve missed many Poetry Ptuesdays and I’m backlogged on Spending Breakdown by TWO months! I haven’t completely finished my bench, and