Night
It is night: The final fallinto the seeded,
the run for cover in jails
where lock down is long overdue,
the fight for balance in bright hospitals,
overcharged tourist in the slum;
all foretells a possible run down
and a way out,
a whisper in trees
bursting with summer.
The unobserved moves accordingly.
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2011-08-27 at 21:06
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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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