by William Powley
When I offer you
a white ring
in evening fog,
your face says
not all giving is charity.
Your cheeks are wet.
I wish I could kiss
or touch you.
Charity is not all giving.
When I offer you
a white ring
in evening fog,
your face says
not all giving is charity.
Your cheeks are wet.
I wish I could kiss
or touch you.
Charity is not all giving.