It was an ageless country, the color of sand.
It breathed its past from the desert wind.
It was another kind of past
Yet in its mouth there was an ancient language of pain
I remembered.
Background: my mother speaks.
It was an ageless country, the color of sand.
It breathed its past from the desert wind.
It was another kind of past
Yet in its mouth there was an ancient language of pain
I remembered.
Background: my mother speaks.