Still waters run deep...
Thursday, March 04, 2004
21. Wanderlust
Wither pretty rose, thirsts
Each thorn for blood?
Weary arms, wistful eye,
Lonely life, meandering by.
Shy smile, playful guiles,
Shackle errant souls.
Unseen lands beseech,
Wandering minstrel he must be.
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