the tenth muse
The roar of the rapids as loud as the drizzle is soft.
Wanderers in slickers flick past,
fingers numb, barely looking.
Oh but you can see them, 61 more words
6 months, 3 weeks ago
I Sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world. As bloggers, I think we all do this every time we write a post. We send our words, our thoughts out over the roofs of the world. 109 more words
11 months, 3 weeks ago