woodthrushed.
"Where every something, being blent together turns to a wild of nothing." -W.S.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Americano
Some day I may regret this
She thinks to herself
But now she sits at the piano
Coffee in hand with the window open.
Sheets of music dizzy across the floor
And she stares into the distance.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment