Monday, April 20, 2015

the moon is high and so is the noose

I've no illusions about breaking loose

I've done my time and had my fun

and I'll be buried beneath the rising sun

and what will sprout up from my grave

will be bright and strong and tender and brave

or so I can hope of my body feeding roots

that will yield briefly to the first green shoots

Content (c) 2008-2015 Philip Milito.

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