poetry & things

When the sun sinks low

After some desolate years, a strange reign came

and played your voice of cello tones deeply wild

a resonance, I drank – my soul to follow

when my feet could no longer walk

fast my heartbeat swallowed

songs of you, haunted


With chords that played silvery golds

in silken threads we wove

dreams and days of sun

that followed

Now sinks the sun dark below

and finds a place, a home

built for no one

Post navigation
Scroll to top