Looking In the past where we try to hold eternity with our small round memories A child wanders through a smoke filled room only to die in the fire of his illusions What will they say about you when you are gone in the book of life They will only mention you once where it will be noted how well you... Sign in to see full entry.
Monday, January 7, 2008
poetry from under the desk
All my Ghosts All my ghosts are here tonight as we look out at the bitter white winter moon standing down beside the broken arbor The scars placed delicately on my brow seem to point me north as I wonder why it suddenly seems so cold in here And it was then that I knew that if loneliness were an old... Sign in to see full entry.