on my 65th year to earth's turning

it was a hot summer night calling
on my 65th year to earth's turning

daily dog tuned madness of love's heart
breaks so easily with sudden eyes
and smooth bodies full of young years

long burdened time recedes softly then
while little boy wonders by the secrecy

it is in the slow coming of dreams
longing breaks in a sun speared farewell

feathered and seared belonging falls
into forgotten ashes of brevity
whispering of impossible resistance

keeping rat skinned intentions at bay
fall short at midnight's on guard
where advantage is taken for granted

it was a hot summer night calling
on my 65th year to earth's turning




Poetry by Bob
Read 603 times
Written on 2014-08-06 at 22:29

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Very intriguing, all the growing that was done on the turning of that 65th year. Lovely and somewhat haunting.
2014-08-07