I sing to myself,
like a wet bird.
Driving away sorrow,
and dreaming a
thousand year dream.
Running, maybe to you.
And into the black
bowls of your eyes.
What days we have left
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 