Echoes
I miss your shadow here,the market place see all
I look for in tertian nights
oboes ride the river reed
and all is silently more.
You are the lunar control
I touch when you are not here,
gasping at itch and longing,
moments it all blinked
and ceremonies turned echoes.
Poetry by Bob
Read 591 times
Written on 2009-08-02 at 03:32
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Brian Oarr |
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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