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teen poem

havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
mas eu no posso l-lo agora
quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
e meu nome truthful
rosas e ouro
deus
podem falar do amor em uma casa de campo
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
a noite escura, e os ventos do inverno
pde t-lo sabido na mola mais adiantada
moonlight profundo e macio

 



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