gnoS s'appiP
gnoS s'appiP
Aren't there monies
That arrive and fall
Like autumn rains
Which bring to all -
A certain incertitude
About desires unwanted.
Like prayers made
With beloved hatred.
There are numbers, there are waves, and then there are colors.
There are definitives, there are uncertainities, and then there is magic.
gnoS s'appiP
Aren't there monies
That arrive and fall
Like autumn rains
Which bring to all -
A certain incertitude
About desires unwanted.
Like prayers made
With beloved hatred.
Posted by Pooja at 2:39 PM
Labels: Poem - English, Waves
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