Hayley

It's quiet here now, after many year of greed, my face smooth as stone, can still see the place, where praise be, I hope to be saved, my body’s like snow, roses rustle the turnpike, when it starts to blow, give me the name, where lies serenity, not just on feast days, owls fly as silent souls, against a moonlit field, rest upon my shoulder, geese honk on their way, late for the season, I'm just the same, where is me ?