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TOWARD EVENING I would still toward the cold evening – Awash in moods and moon shadows – If but the tides allow such shattering Of whatever builds within one Ever so gradually until adolescence Is wrung weepingly away. The frost will seem sweet as icing On a fourth birthday cake Amid the shouts and glee Of the unknowing who partake, Running out the exhuberence Before hormones can lay claim to it, Laughing at the bewildered as they climb Toward their glorious sunsets. When I have completed my need For this meat and bones, Do as you consider necessary While I travel home – alone. |
Additional Notes:
It seems, when checking the "review" before submitting, that the "travel" word in the last line somehow became a link. The author had nothing to do with that!
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