Wednesday, February 21, 2018

The Postern Gate

They sings so high, that ye are so bright, the black birds, come from the halls o' night. They gather they all, to see ye fly, from the postern gate...as the devil preen's 'is prick, a'fore, and never guess a thing.

...adieu.


Written by Bruce James Clyde, at Deming, New Mexico

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