The air is cold
The day is long
Its moments stutter
Its hours throng
Together in
A ragged line
The essence
Lost in time.
Reading poetry
By my own hand
The verses rhyme
Like waves on sand
As children lost
Seeking to define
The thoughts are laced
Locked and primed.
The lone wolf stands
Dark silhouette
Upon the landscape
Hungry and wet
Time today
Has lost his way
The silence breathes
No words to say.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: October 13th, 2026 00:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
Offline)
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