Four circles of the old, bald cheater's clock
This morning has wrung me through.
Pensive, the pen rests a while...
So wide awake,... more »
"A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds." Percy Bysshe Shelley
A new morning has stirred me into day
No other soul alive, no sound to break... more »