Singers
· One min read
The boy waits, late as ever.
Hears distant chorus, warm,
unknowable behind frosted glass.
Shapes sway through the door, a suggestion.
The boy waits, late as ever.
Hears distant chorus, warm,
unknowable behind frosted glass.
Shapes sway through the door, a suggestion.
When the last rain falls
and weary plains crack under
the sun we forsook,
we'll laugh in our perfect grief,
entwined and wilting as one.