Slow night


Slow night descends from storms
filled with menacing snow
where I am just a shelter
blessed with central heating.

Tuned to the one steady channel
where all is merely a capacity
to let it in and to let it go,
a scope, all that life can offer

I no longer run for office,
nor do I call for assistance
when in need of solutions
that eventually fade.




Poetry by Bob
Read 416 times
Written on 2011-02-11 at 22:12

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John Ashleigh
So much verity and realism. I like this, Bob. I am honoured to read it.

Regards,
John.
2011-03-16