'Passing days.'
By blackheart
Wistfully I sit against a broad and aging oak, Gentle shower on my head, Gentle sky with clouds of red. I fondle with the foliage, And watch the day draw in… Looking for tomorrow, As the moon begins to win. Carefully I notice how the stars begin to creep, Delicate curtain in my view, Delicate darkness with many hue. I ask myself the question, What am I doing here… Glancing at the day to come, Without the slightest sense of fear. Peacefully I argue, with the wind within my hair, Mellow by the blinding moon, Mellow from the thought that soon; I will not fall to bended knees, Instead I’ll find my strength… Forward I will march, But just for now… I’ll rest. Written January 18th, 2002 © on Jan 18 2002 01:39 AM PST, harry luck 0 • 12
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"Wistfully I sit against a broad and aging oak,..."