11-14-2020, 01:41 AM
HIBERNATION
His emotions are the weather.
When we were children in summer
creativity soared
visible vapors floated over head
appearing internally as if;
a chariot lasting an eternity
drifting atop a realm of snow.
The weathers different now.
Winters approaches, like a mother
throwing a white blanket
over her child in bed.
As if to show him, you'll be ok.
Until our breaths, appearing as smoke.
Turn into songs of spring.
His emotions are the weather.
When we were children in summer
creativity soared
visible vapors floated over head
appearing internally as if;
a chariot lasting an eternity
drifting atop a realm of snow.
The weathers different now.
Winters approaches, like a mother
throwing a white blanket
over her child in bed.
As if to show him, you'll be ok.
Until our breaths, appearing as smoke.
Turn into songs of spring.
Only one thing is impossible for God: To find any sense in any copyright law on the planet.
--mark twain
Bunx
--mark twain
Bunx
