Warning: Amphigorical Content!

grubby grists of euphuistic prolixity

Tuesday, 13 April 2010

Whence

My house began in the soft mouth of Earth
Carved from rain and hard rock, pale roots sang her birth
Caressed each night by the moor-billowed mist
'Til dawn found her walls sweet gossamer-kissed
My house is made of the autumn and sea
My house, my love, made me
Posted by Philip Damian-Grint at 13:48
 
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