Farewell
At the dull hours of leaving
light imbues all you see,
texture breaks into longing,
matter into a million goodbyes,
each a sweet blade for your bleeding rosary.
Parting is like a thousand suns
in a plain piece of wood
conceding to the swell of light
with each breath of air.
Cause has no other origin.
Poetry by Bob
Read 692 times
Written on 2006-01-10 at 00:10
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Zoya Zaidi |
penfold18 |
Celtic boy |
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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