The hours are foul.
The sun sets.
I must be gone from
this hell,
and off to a place
of rest.
So I bid thee adieu,
and move on to the night
anew.
7/27/10
Poet and Journalist
The hours are foul.
The sun sets.
I must be gone from
this hell,
and off to a place
of rest.
So I bid thee adieu,
and move on to the night
anew.
7/27/10