Wednesday, November 18, 2009

NOIR (old poetry)

is this my prize


a thousand years of baren black

is this my life

holding you here now

everything begins to fade

a tunnel vision of her

this is where life begins

this is where we begin

as us

our family...



can this be it

little eyes and lullabies

sceaming minds

and restless nights

none of this matters

I want to sooth your cries



Noir

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