The Sky is low — the Clouds are mean.
A Travelling Flake of Snow
Across a Barn or through a Rut
Debates if it will go —
A Narrow Wind complains all Day
How some one treated him
Nature, like Us is sometimes caught
Without her Diadem.
20080530
Prenumerera på:
Kommentarer till inlägget (Atom)
Inga kommentarer:
Skicka en kommentar