POETRY
Thursday, August 10, 2017
Breathe humid, old, frightening
Echoes when there is no sound....
My palms flat on the ancient stones
wringgled to my sanctuary...
I am fighting...
PHOTO ARGYRO TSOURTI
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment