my poetry belongs to none
but is– to the night, given
written to its shadowy visitors
penned for its leering voyeurs
I won’t return to that place again
the falling rain may have me
all that I am
listen– to its building rhythm
hear its unending applause
Sleep didn’t come easy? 🙂
It never does.. It only comes when I’ve nothing left 😉
It’s a new day!
Yes. The sun is shining on the blacks dogs as they run.
🙂