Sunday, March 18, 2012

when one desolate night...

 The greens in leaves has gotten yellow
Mud in puddle a shape o mellow
Wind blows in circles and to its own roots
Cats and dogs some sleepy truth
 The nights go warmer and bodies swell
Echoing distant aloof bells
Rummaging through mind are thoughts of blue
Which one to pick I have no clue 
 Brooding pouches of dark immoral epiphanies
On the other side of light can see my cronies
Half way to success I bugle this unrelenting joy
Towards the end this dying ploy

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