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The black Hole and Moss - poem
I was a moss, dwelled on a bark of an old oak. Which stood against the despicable weather of four seasons year around in countryside Living in isolation on a remote corner of a corner's garden. Unmoved, untouched, unspoiled except grazed by Slippery snails at night. I liked the morning dew which I collected at dawn. Before it disappeared when sunbeams across me shone. And I was in love with a black hole. Would you believe it? They called me the crazy moss, the ferns my friend
2 hours ago1 min read
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