Like a prehistoric fly In amber, The man in the moon is trapped, A fossil in the skies Of October, Slowly fading from a smiling face To a winking eye. Like molten candle wax, A final spark And the man in the moon expires, A lunar paradox, Torn by bark, Birched by leafless branches And […]
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
writing in north norfolk 