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365 Days of Poetry 09/01/2010 Dead of Night
It was the dead of the night and everything was silently disturbed
Preachers and New Anchors were not uttering anymore-hasty word
Shimmering hyperbole drenched fading below a whispers sullen breath
Facing facts of erased reactions I scrunch up my pillow again and rest
david
Preachers and New Anchors were not uttering anymore-hasty word
Shimmering hyperbole drenched fading below a whispers sullen breath
Facing facts of erased reactions I scrunch up my pillow again and rest
david
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