The City is of Night perchance of Death, But certainly of Night for never there Can come the lucid morning's fragrant breath After the dewy dawning's cold gray air.
The City is of Night perchance of Death, But certainly of Night for never there Can come the lucid morning's fragrant breath After the dewy dawning's cold gray air.
Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories