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A note to myself
1 min read
Across, I stare
In the sky, we share
The same roof perhaps
Of our misshapen world of crap
Yet we have not
Known of us, cannot
As clearly stated by Time
One awaits the right rhyme
Though how vast our space
Our ties someday meet in place
Wherein cuts are allowed no more
And lost is a word kept at shore
In the sky, we share
The same roof perhaps
Of our misshapen world of crap
Yet we have not
Known of us, cannot
As clearly stated by Time
One awaits the right rhyme
Though how vast our space
Our ties someday meet in place
Wherein cuts are allowed no more
And lost is a word kept at shore
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