_______
i shuffle homeward then
beneath cloud-gray gloom,
doddle emptily
before great Sleep's repetitious void;
i resent obscurity's watchless silence. but
what's healed by fame's bustling anonymity?
the intimate dialogue of solitude
thinly veils--
a petal
as are we all,
flowers forgot.
but soberly, respectful:
for no unplucked stems remain.
4/3/10
12/29/08
No comments:
Post a Comment