Thursday, July 13, 2006

the child ;

Round teardrops wrinkled on the child
Fleeting kisses, humbled by his little soles
I lie in weeds, decayed and tangled
His eyes glow over fathoms deep

Leave your shoes behind forever
While you seek the singing liquid notes
Drink in the meaning and savour the hope
For you've been the child, the missing thing


tricia

nil sine labore
7:59 PM