Herod

Mother bears her child

and prays the bright, guiding, light

is not a rocket.

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the trees are now gold

everything is still as shit, 

as it was before.

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Eyes and teeth Cilla;

anyone who had a heart

knows that I loved you.

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A ghostly Soldier, a Mother and babe alone, the price of freedom.

The chilled air rushes through the leaf strewn forest floor, winter's on its way.

A Mime make a rhyme, sure a Mime can make a rhyme, but who would hear it.

God is good and great, praise him now and don't be late, will decide Your fate.

The wind blows the snow into whirlin...

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Stronger in numbers;

the leaves a deaf audience

clapping spring's last bow.

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To express myself
To inspire someone else
To send a message

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I expect not to

Expect I assume not to

Assume, Life in words

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