A Way To Poetry

A Mid Night Call I have both dreams and love Involved buried in his hands, Passion and heart wrenching sorrow In ancient times I covered behind the clouds; In my four sided door design patterns When the latch burnt Love, The dust gathered in the spring Why will see him crying. Touch the kind of thing I've drowned Crushing apart the leafs and petals; Why sunny corner rubbish Around me, however, to draw Always brush to scratch and let happiness; I still bloody dust, In The Ear flows A midnight call