Moon, worn thin to the width of a quill, In the dawn clouds flying, How good to go, light into light, and still; Giving light, dying.
Moon, worn thin to the width of a quill, In the dawn clouds flying, How good to go, light into light, and still; Giving light, dying.
Suicide note to her lover who left her. When I am dead, and over me bright April Shakes out her rain drenched hair, Tho you should lean above me broken hearted, I shall not care. For I shall have peace. As leafey trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough. And I shall be more silent and cold hearted Than you are now.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories