These spiteful
nuisances can't quench
my thirst
and it grows.
They fail to
make my garden
bloom
and it dies.
They evaporate
on the smallest
flames
and it burns.
They slide down
my cheek eroding
my youth
and I'm old.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
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1 comments:
I've been busy all week grading, arch! Chris, I'll comment on your stuff tomorrow. It's good to have you back.
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