I have been here so long,
forgotten and exposed.
Dreams dry, drawn up
from my frozen well.
But what flowers can be.
Crafted by one such as you.
Disguised, by the first frost-
but love seeps through.
In the depth of darkness
A Wandering Poet
As I walk around I like to record what I experience. Through poetry, ideas and thoughts I hope I can share some of these experiences with you.
A Wandering Poet 