The Constant Search for Something

2016 08 18

The Constant Search for Something

Of all the golden grains of sand

That fill the desert sea

I cannot find a bit of gold

That gift from you to me
Of all the pretty words you say

That blossom from your lips

I cannot find the sweetest vine

That tethers you to me

Sorry for the quality. I drew this thing while in a moving vehicle. Sometimes the urge to write and draw does not discriminate when it comes to location or situation


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