En.Wikiqoute.org Gray one poem, Black one poem or all one poem, madness in the mixing Oh, how cliche, to yearn and pine ( Oh, how cliche) To linger awkwardly, toe the line, (to moan and whine) When words, breath and thoughts combine ( to bury deep) I am swooning, clutching chest (this truth I find) Oh, what the fool I seem to be (Oh taste of muse) To duck and dodge, to turn and flee (and smells of pine) yet still I sigh impatiently, (Like fingertips inside my mind) {waiting for
One troubadoura's adventures and lessons learned exploring the world through music, nature, and poetry. Visit my haiku site at harmoniesandhaikuhome.wordpress.com