outside, the rats
huddle against the
cold grey shade of sky
eyes trail behind her
shivering as she sings
softly like a morning bell
metallic breath blows
grim where is her glory?
In search of the good, the true, and the beautiful
outside, the rats
huddle against the
cold grey shade of sky
eyes trail behind her
shivering as she sings
softly like a morning bell
metallic breath blows
grim where is her glory?
Copyright Clay Lowe