Cracking hands
Long exposed to the cold
Are waiting for Spring
For a legend once told
In a long far off time
(Maybe one month ago)
Of an age bright and warm
And absent of snow
A Poetic Dive into the Creative Unconscious
Cracking hands
Long exposed to the cold
Are waiting for Spring
For a legend once told
In a long far off time
(Maybe one month ago)
Of an age bright and warm
And absent of snow