The moon om my left The moon om my left Waiting to be glimpsed Yawns everywhere Crows surveying the trees I walk hypnozied Under dark branches That tap the moring sky. Share this: poemPrintMoreTwitterFacebookLinkedInRedditTumblrPinterestPocketTelegramWhatsAppSkypeEmailLike this:Like Loading... By timmyconway poet View all of timmyconway's posts.
