I cannot put you into words.
They tumble
like nestlings
too soon testing
their wings
and melt
like snowflakes
swept into a
warming breeze.
You were born
for the brush,
the canvas,
the sculpted stone
that from a
fountain rises
into endless skies
and drives a man to civilize.
They tumble
like nestlings
too soon testing
their wings
and melt
like snowflakes
swept into a
warming breeze.
You were born
for the brush,
the canvas,
the sculpted stone
that from a
fountain rises
into endless skies
and drives a man to civilize.