I open the book
too stoned
to read my name.
Like a feather,
you roll in
sleep, painless.
The milky moon
was still. Shadows
were trembling.
Mushrooms in
mist, wake up
to stand in circle.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: October 20th, 2018 19:51
- Category: Nature
- Views: 6
Offline)
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