Midnight Air,
the orange blackness;
rode upon a white horse.
Laughing tears.
Speaking in unknown tongues.
The wind grew angrily.
Peacefully,
moving brick and gravel.
She gave out colds to the little ones without heart.
She sat on the skin old men.
A dream on fire;
don’t think that my dreams have burned down.
I was not selected.
I’ll try a little harder.
Hoard all disappointment to the left.
Retrieve my soul
Teach my Soul to Dream
Poet Krissy Mosley
thin…skin old men is great in contrast with moving brick and gravel. really love your word choices.
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Thank you angieinspired
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Although I am inspired (:D) you can call me just Angie.
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Nice to meet you Angie love your work as well
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thanks. should I call you Mother Bethel? that seems awkward…
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Lol Krissy I’m just blogging for my church
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That’s awesome! Nice to “know you” through your work, Krissy.
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Krissy Mosley Ministries 
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