Over the high mountains there hangs a cold mist,Where even the bravest soul would shudder and twist,
the foul air around was pungeant and vile,
yet there walked a broken man with a broad smile,
blessed was he for his heart was pure,
bitten by a bug no herb would cure,
his love had died leaving him distraught,
to follow her to valhalla the only thing he sought,
on and on he pressed carrying a wreath,
till atlast he found the sweet caress of death..
the foul air around was pungeant and vile,
yet there walked a broken man with a broad smile,
blessed was he for his heart was pure,
bitten by a bug no herb would cure,
his love had died leaving him distraught,
to follow her to valhalla the only thing he sought,
on and on he pressed carrying a wreath,
till atlast he found the sweet caress of death..
2 comments:
Thats beeeeeyootifully written. Within that cool exterior of yours there lies an aesthetic soul appreciating the aesthetics so aesthetically. I am overwhelmed. Very well done.
Spectular work ya ... keep goin
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