20 August 2016

Let’s meet in the underground
whose grass is smooth
as the blue velvet
above. Loose time
which challenges once-
known thought.

Challenge me with
greyed hair son
and in return in
the velvet bower
you may your
grey ears listen and
learn in return.

Oh and how the sorrow
grows and mould
leaving lovers forlorn.
But how others forsake
and pass, how you and I
know and let our mould
in bower grow and known
the beauty
of haunting scars.


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