I am
I am the tasteall your dream world
fast beating drums
can ascertain
in woe moments
of tell tale trials
of what must be unfurled
before time itself
recedes into the night
and all memories
fade into dying days.
I am the salt
that leaves you
with a taste of longing
in times of dread
and what if
another path had persisted
with alternatives
never besought nor paid for
in the continuation.
I am the candor
in the final expression
when the night
of all nights
falls in between
what is left of expression
and there is no more
wishful thinking
amongst the dying trees
in the evermore parks.
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2007-04-14 at 16:06
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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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