Poem
Night draws near.
Leafless trees like pale veins
of a thing that was.
The intensity of light
concentrating far
ready for a pause.
Still magnificent
the day retreats.
There's nothing concrete
between you and the air-
only what you want
to believe is there.
Light is a pause from you.
Night draws
as the sun beats and fades.
Friday, February 6, 2009
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