IMAGES FROM THE DARK ROOM:

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

THE WIND INSIDE It’s the sound of old hound dogs baying at moon light Ancient train whistles echoing through distant dark It’s the songs crickets sing serenading twilight And rain rap-tap tapping on windows The way the cold wind blows Inside your memories Moving little paint sticks Stirring warmed... Sign in to see full entry.

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