Patter patter fir

     to patter pine far
     felt the day would be the night
     there are several branches in the windows of fragile
     winds hit the latent

     I'm now the person can stand
     how time is not a child anymore
     but first there is a material
     is not the basis for the calculation is now

     life is only to delay defeat
     added alienated from the love of low school
     and know, there is still not unsaid
     before we finally gave up

Posted in: poetry