A black river snakes through a gullible landscape Dark and brooding, slick as oil History recounts an ancient evil rising
Locked in a prison of my own making. Iron and stone bind me, confine me. Mortared by fear and doubt,
A tangled hedge maze of unyielding clouds, Mythical bolls of pure white cotton, Stretching beyond the horizon, shrouds The earth in
She lived inside her head, A snug space, comfortable but lonely. In time her solitude took up too much room.
There is a comfortable silence between us, A feeling no mere mortal could touch. My heart aches with the love