Wandering Nights

Wandering Nights
----------------
Andrew Defrederico - 2019 Mar 14 01:29


There stays man of white
Glistening in the moonlight
Trumpet sound of thousand hounds
Whose barks are the forest's remarks
Whose dead ones are the missing runs

There becomes woman of gold
The children stained glowing cold
Of a hundreds in nights
White satin, hopes of in sights
White satin, to be mad driven Latin

There are children of knowing
Hoping of learnt are the bestowing
Cries are made with cuts of dull blade
Whispers carry over shores running full
Whispers are children's down hill roll