Friday, July 06, 2007

Manon Poem


His dark shoulder is in sable clad

His dark shoulder is in sable clad
his fingertips are sable silk

He calls into the morning glad
allseeing are all of his ilk


Sit on my shoulder sooty one

let me see with my eyes through your eyes
One call when the raven comes

one call when the raven flies

1 comment:

heina said...

mooi, meidi, mooie letters en hele mooie tekening. Gaat het goed? zullen we es afspreken? Groetjes!