The first new poem this year. Written while listening to Segovia.


Evening


A long day goodbye
with lava madness and mire deception
dissipates in old times gone.
Bones to the homeless
is all one can whish for,
a golden clock, another day.

Misty memories, naked.
The faint outline of a ship
caught in waves of the old moon
turns and turns again
in the distant swirl of grey water.





Poetry by Bob
Read 586 times
Written on 2012-08-30 at 19:48

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