The weary hand that feeds.
I feel the water
heavy air blankets my skin
but still labor calls
Reluctant grinding again
Fulfilling needs of promise
The weary hand that feeds.
I feel the water
heavy air blankets my skin
but still labor calls
Reluctant grinding again
Fulfilling needs of promise
Bringing real feelings along with messages of inspiration and imagination to life. Awakening is the symptom of my infectious condition. Poetry is my condition.