To PRC
Late evening, late September,
still twelve degrees at half past nine
and deciduous trees still hang to
their dark garments; world
changed, and yet I can only
think how it should've been
changed, you beside me here,
not cast in that hell I made.
Oh, I have mine own hell
in dark September dusk,
yet this bed of coals less
than I deserve; this velvet
darkling evening embedded
in night softens each crime.
28.09.2023
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
Ei kommentteja:
Lähetä kommentti