Sunday, August 1, 2010


a poem for the darker hours

rainy nights and bright go lights
gilded ghosts and stringless kites
silver stars hung from the trees
and all my dreams in front of me

living water molds the road
while specters dance and silence goads
a mortal hand to take the pen
and to defy earth's wisest men

a staircase stained with vivid ink
the way is long, there's time to think
with foresight I'll escape the hours
locked within the poet's tower

No comments:

Post a Comment