They've all read Montaigne
I am trying to hear. Boards, ribbons, flowers.
That's the cubicity of silence.
Rain just taps on it, the water splits.
Wax sits next to it in statuesque.
The man's face bends down to it
Still smelling of a tonic from a shave
He leaves it.
All these little creatures,
They are all very cheeky.
They've all read Montaigne.
Anatol Cordua (c) 2017
I am trying to hear. Boards, ribbons, flowers.
That's the cubicity of silence.
Rain just taps on it, the water splits.
Wax sits next to it in statuesque.
The man's face bends down to it
Still smelling of a tonic from a shave
He leaves it.
All these little creatures,
They are all very cheeky.
They've all read Montaigne.
Anatol Cordua (c) 2017
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