Crock Of Gold(For Lyn)
D Dónall Dempsey
0
Altın Yaprak
Twisted crooked man
little as a leprechaun
tin whistle
stuck in his smile
eyes closed
fingers dancing
as if it
were playing
him.
His hat
overflowing
with the sound
of coin upon coin
the crowd
charmed
enraptured
as if hypnotised
as if the rainbow
ended here
& he
playing with all his heart
...the crock of gold.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş