*
I know some
tongues that aren’t even
tongues languages
of a heaven I don’t recall
learning but I own
I may be foolish not
to practice but is that
a requirement
how do I go back to
that country where
the horizon doesn’t lay
where each drop is
gold filling up
the atmosphere
where we met where
I met myself where
I was where
I am today
.
.
.
.
.
annamosca 
A honey hymn.
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Sweet. 🙂
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footsteps in the sand, the tide comes in, but the memory remains, nice poem
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Thank you for your lyrical comment, stay tuned in!
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Reblogged this on Concierge Librarian.
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Thank you reblogging! 😀
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