Love is


Solemn nights fall and fetter
with scores of unborn tales
while you charge the floor
with hoses and deaths by brush.

Only yesterday I saw a rent
in your frivolous face
and there was a tiny orchestra
tuning up to your threshold.

Love is a dead cat
buried in the woods.




Poetry by Bob
Read 573 times
Written on 2006-11-19 at 03:18

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Saga
Cool metaphors man, good and bad both clap the same hands!!!
2006-11-19