(free) | Login
| Gold Members
Don't miss me. I won't miss you.
Trickling onto a crumpled leaf
Comes black water, full of love and affection.
It flows from a rusty but sturdy pipe
Into the riverbeds of tenement houses.
Those people awake
And they feel a slow, sing‑song tingle down their spines.
Why is it?
A smile on their radiant faces, they know.
They are being called.
Home is their heart and they no longer need be . . .
Featured Authors |
New to AuthorsDen? |
Add AuthorsDen to your Site
with your friends |
Need Help? | About