| Author | Message | ||
| M
Board Administrator Username: admin Post Number: 6 Registered: 11-1998 |
I am no narcissus, no rose "So go" irises, "so go" rose "An old woman leaves a red slash on her palm." But their woes, strange choices, who knows! Cold breeze blows, she closes the door Gazes. Mountain ices. Who rose? She strums, deflects, fingers on strings Sitar waves air. Her vices, O rose? On a wild platform runs, khizar Whistle, a horn, crises. Who rose? |
