Childcraft

GREENMAN42UK



 

Childcraft

In the cold, cross church he lay, helpless;
Warm, waning skin against him.
Their resonant chorus of collective cheer
He could hear but not listen to.
They’ll mould his wet clay,
Begin here to fashion a vessel to fill until
It becomes full of what they are.

  • Author: GREENMAN42UK (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 15th, 2017 18:50
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 43
  • Users favorite of this poem: Laedie Willacaw
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