Notes II Read Count : 4

Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

The silver grain ,the white snow is the rice of our plain.

Stimulation our flesh and away from the strain.

No pain to calibur

An plague of hunger. 


Steep rolls of the cultisack.

Rolling, roaming sheep dogs guard the field. 

Where the sheep lord? 

Gracefully blessed his accord.

Comments

  • Harlann Stewart

    Harlann Stewart

    i love this.

    Mar 14, 2019

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