These brittle bone bare necessities
These brittle bone bare necessitiesI harbor at the turning of deep blue
reverberates in snow lit chambers
where you, in frail fractal mystery,
stand with hopes of an easy play.
Seascapes tempts my derelict eyes,
cliffs of untold torment tie my tongue.
Staring into the icy void
I see white birds fly into the lost night
and old sailors sink anew.
Poetry by Bob
Read 1198 times
Written on 2007-01-30 at 17:36
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