Moody mornings
They are the worst moments
These mid-March mornings
Musing morbidly cursing my
Taming longing again for the
old purple shades of sin
Flesh wars raging in the warm
Golden morning light
The crow diving over the
Calm red-shoulder hawk
Making a metaphor for me
Sitting atop that pine
While Cat Stevens I guess
Will forever chime
Oh baby it's a wild world.
No comments:
Post a Comment