
The wells of no return
It is an ominous motionthat lift sparrows from the ground,
turning seekers to look for shelter.
It's the peripheral, the unexpected,
that pertains to be a wave
in the exchange of matter of.
Night falls like a great why
over sedimentary say so.
Oversized accusations fall
like pine needles or bitter fruit
through the dark falling into:
The wells of no return.
Poetry by Bob
Read 688 times
Written on 2009-07-14 at 20:18




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