He descends to bed in parts, windblown weary,And dreams of daybreak coffee with the sea,At dawn his aching legs take him thereWhere the winter waves w..
there's a hole in my bellywhere the need isneed to write a poemthe muse is a woman for surela belle dame sans mercipromises with a word or phraselike ..
She sails rock to rock on the unsteady wall,Barefoot and sure-winged like a butterfly.Her dark, careless hair wind-trails herIn the crimson light of t..