..
Not all roads lead to Rome, some stray so far from others. The ones who carve those paths, lost, known only to themselves, wishing to be seen. The city awakens and lives begin, watching from a far wishing, to walk with, not amongst. But this path is right, it made me who I am. So why does it feel like a cemetery, and not the beloved garden I thought I had.
Ad
Poetry Books 50% Off
Bestselling collections from top poets
Shop Now →
