A paper slip
that’s crossed in lines
Invites the pen
like grapes to vines.
A swallow high
upon the wing
Is no more free
than slaves who sing.
The dirt below
and stars above,
Will outlive words
of what we love.
07.09.23
A paper slip
that’s crossed in lines
Invites the pen
like grapes to vines.
A swallow high
upon the wing
Is no more free
than slaves who sing.
The dirt below
and stars above,
Will outlive words
of what we love.
07.09.23