Buh4Bee
01-15-2022, 10:06 AM
The warmth of your words
blows the chimes
against my log house.
In the morning
the sky is blue
but the air has turned cold
again.
Looking out the window
I feel like that
black bird soaring
on your last warm
current.
I try to sing you
a pretty song
but all that comes
out is a caw caw caw.
blows the chimes
against my log house.
In the morning
the sky is blue
but the air has turned cold
again.
Looking out the window
I feel like that
black bird soaring
on your last warm
current.
I try to sing you
a pretty song
but all that comes
out is a caw caw caw.