Hello,
I say to the mist
above the pond below the sky,
a blackened soup.
A train whistles
the lone response.
My favorite bench, one side still
warm,
private study of
a hungry wanderer.
Now, to pick up where I left off.
A train whistles.
Hello,
I say to the mist
above the pond below the sky,
a blackened soup.
A train whistles
the lone response.
My favorite bench, one side still
warm,
private study of
a hungry wanderer.
Now, to pick up where I left off.
A train whistles.
The Argosy is the independent student journal of news, opinion, and the arts. Our content is written, edited, and funded by the students of Mount Allison University in Sackville, New Brunswick.