I saw cuts of heaven die at night
as winter lanterns whispered still
and winks at dark destiny of stars
crossed all intentions of never again.
It is the evening of all gone by
and winter furnishes my delusions
with small talk and threats of snow
over barren streets and I.
Chinks of last night's dreams
flicker like memories of ache
and all is a memory falling down
the two behold with never before.
I it is that call for more
but it is a brutal fate to live
in this cross to differ
where all is lost at intervals.
Poetry by Bob
Read 802 times
Written on 2008-12-09 at 13:03
Tags Die  Evening  Winter
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