The Flying Ship

The Flying Ship

Thursday, September 2, 2010

I Don't Know.

I wait all day

Everyday

To get away to where I go

To the building drifts of snow

And the good I lack

Then I get back

And lie down.

And die down.

Just count to ten

If I couldn't do it then

Why could I do now?

In what way, how?

No, I can't. And I never will.

No comments:

Post a Comment