Call me,Even if it’s 3 a.m.,And I am dead to the world.Every fire pit eventually has to go out,But even those cold ash embersAre kept…
Poet & Storyteller
Call me,Even if it’s 3 a.m.,And I am dead to the world.Every fire pit eventually has to go out,But even those cold ash embersAre kept…
I smell the wild on you.How the snow is caked in your fur.When the night falls, what doesIt offer besides survival.And the means to be…