funny poetry

still her gray rocks tower above the sea
if i should die, think only this of me
how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong
in the sphere
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
they in the darkness gather and ask
the snow whispers about me
come down at dawn from windless hills
she might have known it in the earlier spring
who loves the rain
a flying word from here and there
royal feast was done
as a white candle
i expect you