I will hold my pen to bed
When the day comes with no words for poetry
I will dream of our infant voices
as mother warns us to quit the dashes
Yet we will run into to the kitchen
Hiding and seeking
Happy and smiling
Tag: Spiritual
MAJORITY, Poetry by SANIJELA MATKOVIĆ
Regardless of the insensitive time, dreams are still
were declared clear.
One name, one address, one look …
Perhaps it would be enough, and half of the verse
WILDsound Festival 