Sunday, March 7, 2010

Night At The Gate Of Day

They are gleaming dinner table in sitting room

and drawing the image of curtain words

I am think of a lost tongue of innocent child

creeping silently at the dark gate



the helpless fates of light twinkle at me

and faint face from the blind and unclear skies

a man who cries in the mist of life a little while

and placidly rest at the bottom of room.

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