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Poetry By: Erick Flores
Original Photography by: Mikael Svensson
https://plus.google.com/u/0/109888379776056131514/posts
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Down by the bay,
I let my trouble lay,
I pull my sleeves,
I watch the leaves,
They rustle,
They bustle,
I see their struggle,
But then leaves snuggle.
No, it is not a cay,
It would lead me astray,
The bay relieves,
And one receives,
Like a muscle,
It will hustle,
It does not smuggle,
Only then snuggle.
Erick Flores
