by R.M. Engelhardt
EVENING
Evening...
You kill me.
Slow pulse, slow your image still burning
Still.
Ouiet,
As all these voices come out
Into the dark, at night.
My love, my sadness... 'Night'
You, more than just another dance
With the moon.
From:
www.rmengelhardtpoet.com
Copyright ©:
R.M. Engelhardt
Last updated September 16, 2011