Good night
Wilful feathery fears of tomorrowliquefy at the turning melting point
where I, as it were, wrecks all potential
of a lame and toothless future
plummeting into pools
of poor joint consideration.
I am the wild wily dilly
that scribbles into the weary night
too bold to be daft or stale
too rapt to pale or fold.
I am the shift from cruel tears
into good night dear.
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2006-01-08 at 23:08
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Zoya Zaidi |
Texts |
by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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