Fort Funston, San Francisco
'Tis quiet somewhere.
Still.
Still.
Where the mind empties her tragedies
and the spirit tarries peacefully until the morrow,
where messengers of woe gain no entry
and languid travelers lay rest among the swallows.
A land I dream of nightly,
a dream I wait on daily.
a dream I wait on daily.
Alas,
'tis quiet here, my love
'tis quiet here, my love
we shall fall asleep now.
For more: veronairis.blogspot.com
No comments:
Post a Comment
add a comment . . .