like this
the nightwas cold
and dark
with out
an ember
or
a spark
just the
searing
light
of a
soaring
moon
a race
apart
a part
to face
must now
be played
as open
in the
cottage
door as
where turf
and talk
all
ensmoked
mix
you shot
me
through
the heart
with an
untender
kiss
like this
Poetry by Peter Humphreys

Read 876 times
Written on 2007-10-01 at 00:36




Mark J. Wood |
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