WINE AND GATES

Hour The Mete Of Indecision, Lucky Break

salt in my eye
boring old excuse for what matters
that time without the trying
is a haircut of gold that flatters

sorry, hurt harvest of the brief
my name is a logic for admit
the turn of terror into a culprit, if
the love of unction and its same sit...

salt in my lap
bearing the scant of sand, for a life that has some
need, for a wish that comes with hap
neglect the tired eye of reason, and you'll know my, home

sorry, haven't the hardship come to greatness
to greet the can't for rests of a smile in the cease
my heart nearer to thee, was a have of a guess
golden lips of chances know the reality of loves yeast

salt in my step
hearing the triumph of conscience to the fast of since
this heart of during done, is now my whit's
for the sense of a which that makes us a new breath

sorry, saviors in the form of a new word
to can with a share of insight for another life
this candor of questions and answers is simply heard
like the reach of redoubt in the way have, a kind...


Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Hour The Mete Of Indecision, Lucky Break

266,388 Poems Read

Sponsors