Lost Love Lust

Tags: poets

• fathom.

  The night.
  A traffic of minds in the all active highway of the dark.
  The rich mind sleeps, the poor mind weeps.
  The painters brush, in a rush.
  The writers words, no longer a hush.
  Man and woman’s embrace, no longer disgrace.
  The leave’s cling and the winds ring.
  The poet’s rum awaits the morning sun.
  A guitar strum, the player’s drum.
  The lover’s [...]