November
It's November and I have nowhere else to go but home, but home It has darkened a bit and I remember I must return home, to home
Midst an aquarelle of vanished leafs
Nowhere else to turn, but here
|
Gryning | Konfunderat | Skymning | Stimulierat |
Classical Saxophonist | A Lunde Garden of Eden | Anderson's Lumberyard | The Oval Office |
Breakfast in Bratislava | Contact | copyright
© 2011 swedishpoet.com |