Nights of satin loss

Nights when chase is a must
– void sampled by rabbits –
and the moon
is all you can ask for,
it is then I demands
all of attention.

A roller coaster tale,
an old women's yarn,
– a mad dinner at midnight –
is all any receiver
can hope to assemble.

Water of another body
flows in the trenches of yesterday,
shimmers and fades
behind wine and a spring
so sudden and yet so constant.




Poetry by Bob
Read 607 times
Written on 2011-04-20 at 22:34

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text