Thus I'm Rolling Over Letters Closed Because...A Poem by Sir Robert Robbie Lord DudleyWoe; horizons all in all will you Find it hard questions, I don't mind it Quickly these faded The years are rakes, shovels The most part partakes worlds Reaches over, whirlwinds exchanges it What is much better because
... The flow understands To those rags worn more worser now Of explainations, reasons Leaves theirs untethered Holds this how it was glowing leaves turning Suddenly all in all on points at this Bends between us in just here or there In strange beginnings let it begin Readjusted to.. upon Room, Room, Zoom, Zoom The most part partakes worlds At sudden lightning hidden from all Fall Farewell to an old boom town bust Returns over all things considered too far Blocks it out, be it will, reads Thinks it stands, was it still available of tears A song unrolls, told me softly Looking through dreams Sawing in the dark woods Soundly dazed, while amazed Totally under what purpose Long thrown off, half, if not all The swings outlast as-like Then theirs contrast faded away Wasn't it yesterdays linked to space Ain't them all signed, love To have been wants to fly What must be stumbling Differently found by How I feel my room in the dark Once; disposition At the same time, places, looks So I ain't yet times through At the moment day by day my choices Sawing in the dark woods Soundly without patches on And it must part from the first speech at this Of a-hope off course To the last pieces We've not done well yet High notes are nimble until Ohh, that would seem so, no less so Ohh, each, so beautiful Opens wide, abouts nothing sung Returns to hide inside wants I'm getting it done someway What is much better because... Bye-bye been nice for then it's just Discontentment now they all went Under yonder head board Always draws faces at the same times, places, looks Things are by doing as writing Be to pictures scattered finding Mountains in the parking lot Here's a-tender light of night Hold your own in the grass Shakespeare & Company Radio stations of the past Broadcast only at night The mornings before were Between us in just here or there, But, wasn't it so Sensing it so, and, sometimes That's not a lot of games That's not a lot of books Another phone in view Whence what-ever excels forwards The painter's name Builds upon these tires in my hands Blotting out more worlds To have an inkling there-in is A darkness it's already made Ohh, go, Sweetheart A passionate thread There has to be another way Once; disposition Each thing was apart of art Is this cover over me Isn't that my record of it Shall we that moment Shall we be now Put it on, thus; Shared I'm rolling over letters closed because...
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Added on October 1, 2017 Last Updated on November 29, 2020 AuthorSir Robert Robbie Lord DudleyRiverside, NJAboutACROSS THE NIGHT'S SHINING ROAD COVERS ME, i'LL READ. Life, Thyme leeds rails rushes a begotten hold only copes oh, poetry a random ray of yellow light shining sky golden drops in fields trickles b.. more..Writing
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