Sunday, December 8, 2013

My friends

The move was swift, the strike hit hard
Fire-lit was the weapon of attack


Thundering rain made everything so clear
My wrongful hopefulness was meant to disappear

My friends, 490 and 480

Murderers of the night; Lovers of the day;
Prevented the lucid before it was too late

But was it not too late?

No comments:

Post a Comment