The grass is wet.
My soul is met.
The drops fall upon my bed.
The sky is grey.
But outside's May.
The sun can't find the way.
The clouds look angry.
My spirit's hungry.
It'll pass - tomorrow's Monday...
Written by
Dasha
14th August 2001.
Created: Dec 2002 © Paul Kinder | Last Updated: 30/12/02 |