Sunday, 25 October 2015

Lark Wing

Image courtesy of Wikipedia


Listen Lark wing, fragile as November  rains,
The mists that cover hood and brow in fine veil
Carry not the weight of suffering nor life's kiss.
They, like you, like me, are passing through

(All my love and thoughts are with tiny Jacob my grandson)
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Russell Cuts the Corn From The Brewers Whiskers.

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