HookA Poem by Wavesnotwar
Where is the man with a hook for a hand?
We will ask him to drive us to the sea As I stood there with my wine colored hair I don't think he could recognize me So I sat underneath the buckeye tree waiting and passing time I count the days until the sea will be mine
© 2016 Wavesnotwar |
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Added on May 25, 2016 Last Updated on May 25, 2016 Author
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