4:32A Poem by KhemiJegnaThere was an itch for the heights A tickle for a scratch I laughed It danced from the chin to the crown of my head Not a spill in this state of perfection The base of cup sang a tune The base of the jug was a b minor In awe of the frequency to the ears I awe the science of the impossible For there is no air up here for such tune to travel I did not question Omni Nor his kingdom closer than my jugular vein For His word is Lord ...My word is Lord
© 2016 KhemiJegna |
Stats
122 Views
Added on April 29, 2016 Last Updated on June 30, 2016 |