The Final High

now that is hills are covered with clover
like a new days sun suspended in the sky
shadows dawning hear me calling on the stairwell
praying that you dont see me cry

rugged thoughts of fear and loud commotion
panic stations in my brain
twisted colours in a champagine supernova
illuminating up and down my spine


now that is hills are covered with clover
like a new days sun suspended in the sky
shadows dawning hear me calling on the stairwell
praying that you dont see me cry
Copyright © | Year Posted 2007

Poem

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