A Fogged Night
Might I pass this night with you in splendor,Perched high on carriage this fine November,
To go to supper, near the park,
Just past eight, into the dark?
Can we sup on delights of roasted beasts,
And greens crisp, with breads from yeasts,
And pass the evening joined in chatter,
Let the time be not of matter?
The Horse clacks in unison with wheels of creak,
And hushes our words whilst we dare speak,
Shaking his head to left and right,
Bidding adieu upon this night.
Poetry by Morpheus
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Written on 2011-02-11 at 06:20
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Morpheus |
ken d williams |
Texts |
by Morpheus Latest textsHurtingPretense, my friends, Pretense! Don't Bother with me My Island Tonight kiss me on the ground My favoritesSilent screamNine Years Tonight |
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