Thursday, 23 April 2015

Poem Wot I Wrote


Song of Evening


Colours fade

Pushing time

Beyond the line

Stars appear

In hemisphere


Night is never pitch dark.

Who said it was?

Who mired their soul in pitch?

It’s not so bad.


Moon hands back the sun’s gift,

Currency exchange

Gold for silver

Is that too little?


Don’t forget the million stars

The world will turn.

Hope return.

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