Calgary Who Sell Kangol

Nest Art of Poetry















poetry

And I said,

I do not like to talk about me!
No sir,
This to disclose is not of men, he said

And it was between landscape
Yes
Slowly, slowly going

But runs like an afternoon

Shrugging his wings into the wind nausea houses.

Yes, here goes ... slowly going

Running as an evening
to shrink its wings into the wind
nausea houses.

The constant is that I'll never

after her run as an evening Because
Shrugging his wings into the wind nausea

my house! Escaping the crusts
shiver Stopping to swallow the shadows of trees.

And I am afraid to go back there!
Leave me alone, I said I know that

This to disclose is not a guy thing.
And boy, escape with the shiver of crusts
to swallow the shadows of trees and will not return
told me

And I felt so bad about letting go and
So sad, so lonely
,
Between autumn and my brown house.

I could not help crying
That was after her. I stopped slowly


Is it that I remember as a child
When my voice was lost
nausea in the wind in my house?
And he was right to remain silent and watch me fall

pain
Where I am now on the winter and alone.
And if you ever find

death Wanting to reach

Spread it!

And you will tell.