Limp daydreams,
Carrion scraps,
All soft-shelled and pale,
Litter the cold and winding streams
Flowing down from mountain's spot.
You, bear,
Astride, in-stream,
Your ragged maw agape,
You wield your teeth as crooked swords,
Now, catch some fish for me.
20, Student. I write from innocence and experience (haha)
Commentaires