So far above me That lofty summit soaring Who will find me there
By Torren Gustavsen3 years ago in Poets
She is not conquered I claim her summit to boast She tolerates me
Standing on the knife I hear death’s subtle whisper Daring me to fall
Like a little child I sit upon her shoulders A place of wonder
A scruffy, dirty looking young man wearing nothing but a burlap sack sat on a stump by a fire. All around him the forest creatures leaned in.
By Torren Gustavsen3 years ago in Fiction
