Bellhest

Glory sprung from frosty life. I weep as flowers spring to life. Whispers flapping in my wings. Teeth of memory, racing the clock. Imagination tired of these methods, metaphors of effort.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s