The third-week moon reaches its light over my father's farm,
Half of it dark now, in the west that eats it away.
The earth has rocks in it that hum at early dawn.
As I turn to go in, I see my shadow reach for the latch.
The third-week moon reaches its light over my father's farm,
Half of it dark now, in the west that eats it away.
The earth has rocks in it that hum at early dawn.
As I turn to go in, I see my shadow reach for the latch.
PoemWiki 评分
暂无评论 写评论