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“I am your little ram, burying his muzzle in thick grass of your pasture, folded by you at night, herded by day, a dedicated dog nipping at my hocks. The day will come for you to draw the bright sickle of the moon across my wooly throat. Do it with love, without regret.” — Mark Wunderlich
I am your little ram,
burying his muzzle in thick grass of your pasture,
folded by you at night, herded by day,
a dedicated dog nipping at my hocks.
The day will come for you to draw
the bright sickle of the moon
across my wooly throat.
Do it with love, without regret.