Nuair nach mbíonn focal ag file

On a leafless lane,

No first no last.
No windward blast.
No sun to burn the palest flesh.
No script to follow.
No shadow thrown
No sod to turn.
By man nor beast.
No parallel to draw.
No words on which to feast.

© munster 2021
Views: 320
no comments or critique sought.
Flag Content