Desolate and truly breathless.
Spinning for the night and day.
Hanging on to the vastness.
Never visit and never stay.
Harsh and blank to the eye.
A waste of space to us all.
With dark and cloudy sky.
Hear it’s faint and desperate call.
Telling of its only past.
Thought of as the least.
Hurry to look, for it may not last.
Yet hidden inside, a mighty beast.
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Author:
Alfred Lord Tennyson (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 2nd, 2018 06:45
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
Offline)
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