By: Brylle Bautista Tabora after Donald Hall And as I begin to write this poem the trees outside turn into burning spires, the mist takes the shape of a lonely man, and frogs all over imitate the cawing of birds. Someone,…
By: Brylle Bautista Tabora after Donald Hall And as I begin to write this poem the trees outside turn into burning spires, the mist takes the shape of a lonely man, and frogs all over imitate the cawing of birds. Someone,…