Poem The Golden Hour at Mark Craig blog

Poem The Golden Hour. You showed me how to spike the. Colors mute and muddy the sky. Her golden tendrils illuminate the blond hairs on my skinny boy legs. A yellow sun cuts center stage. When warring winds have died. The winds may blow, the sleet may dash the pane. We bled it, shaved away the scales, severed meat from bone. When sidelong hours reach deep into the house, objects turn unbearably distinct and i think of girlhood, how the sinking. And all our lonely road be clothed in gray, yet what. You showed me how to spike the brain— i thanked the fish, looked away, pressed down. When you caught one to keep, we took it home and i asked you to teach me. At this forbidden hour, cinderella has to be home, yet her hands are gently being kissed as her heart turns into a pumpkin, ready to be patched in. I’m afraid of leaving my loved ones alone. How calm, how beautiful, comes on. The stilly hour, when storms are gone;

And all our lonely road be clothed in gray, yet what. You showed me how to spike the. Through invisible particles in the air. At this forbidden hour, cinderella has to be home, yet her hands are gently being kissed as her heart turns into a pumpkin, ready to be patched in. When you caught one to keep, we took it home and i asked you to teach me. When sidelong hours reach deep into the house, objects turn unbearably distinct and i think of girlhood, how the sinking. We bled it, shaved away the scales, severed meat from bone. When warring winds have died. When you caught one to keep, we took it home and i asked you to teach me. How calm, how beautiful, comes on.

Golden Hour (arr. Langanho) Sheet Music Jvke Trumpet and Piano

Poem The Golden Hour When you caught one to keep, we took it home and i asked you to teach me. You showed me how to spike the. The winds may blow, the sleet may dash the pane. When sidelong hours reach deep into the house, objects turn unbearably distinct and i think of girlhood, how the sinking. When warring winds have died. We bled it, shaved away the scales, severed meat from bone. Golden hour | poetry out loud. A yellow sun cuts center stage. Her golden tendrils illuminate the blond hairs on my skinny boy legs. Colors mute and muddy the sky. When you caught one to keep, we took it home and i asked you to teach me. I’m afraid of leaving my loved ones alone. You showed me how to spike the brain— i thanked the fish, looked away, pressed down. I walk on, the slip of grass between my thumbs. When you caught one to keep, we took it home and i asked you to teach me. How calm, how beautiful, comes on.