by Marc Carver
There are Raphael paintings in the sky by day
as clouds race by.
The days are mostly the same too
but i never see the same clouds.
Day is now night and how bright that moon is.
Not full, just like a eye.
The all seeing eye.
If it turned and looked it would see straight into my heart if i let it.
Only good men die on nights like this.
Warm death
blanketed by dreams
whispering
the journey for you my friend
is over.
No comments:
Post a Comment