Path
Paths,Steeple tops stymying climbers to a fall.
Broadway rooms for all.
One,
Rises with wet scars, tears and blood.
Stain,
Robes are worn through storm breaks.
Light,
Is the gift of Love undying.
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers

Read 676 times
Written on 2014-05-21 at 15:29




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