#aging #echoes #haiku #kamila #loneliness
If I had words and rhyme enough t… That when on thirsty soil my roses… In stinging, ice-wrapped cage my s… A lilting tune that ushers in the… Then such a poem will, of course,…
Moonlit summer shore Blackness deep waves sing He walks A pencil writes His thoughts
I hear you piercing the silent clinking of champagne glasses with the laughter of a
I do not write poetry because Great dead men on my shelves have done it I must be busy with
