By the window
The darkest hour glass recall,exhumed by the mirror night,
not yet risen in the breeze horizon,
feeds on anguish moon lost
and the terror of breaking afterbirth.
The war of silence seeds the coming
of the long night wave of tears
good bye cannot fulfill.
The longing for just one star
more than anything is a dying breath
that walks your shadow
deep into the grim ground.
Poetry by Bob
Read 583 times
Written on 2009-07-31 at 12:17
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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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