Walking barefoot
on fresh grass
rain keeps
smearing
this old
draft
/ Faint
reflections
o f
o u r
d a m p
r e a l i t y /
Dizzy letters
all get
blurred
eerie story—
last line
slurred
/ D r i z z l i n g lines
in ink rain
weather /
Books all
tattered,
O, too frail!
this ink
watered down—
too pale
All these stories
drowning, bold;
fading lines
on torn page
drawn
/ Faint
reflections
o f
o u r
d a m p
r e a l i t y /
(Were they
really any
good, though?
I wonder
now—
too late)
/ D r i z z l i n g lines
in ink rain
weather /
LannaZee 