Who says Words are dead?
When there is nothing left to be said.
Every stroke, every letter, there is a beat.
Sit down and feel it.
I truly hope I can write those long poems. . .
Who says Words are dead?
When there is nothing left to be said.
Every stroke, every letter, there is a beat.
Sit down and feel it.
I truly hope I can write those long poems. . .
RE: Love Poem by Mary Fons