Howls and moan sound in the eves
on this October night
like a lost soul when it grieves
from that plane beyond sight.
Or are these things coming from me
as I remember long gone friends
who've reached their eternity
in a hunting ground which never ends?
I rub my eyes where twin streams flow
swollen creeks from thoughts of loss
when will my storm cease to grow
when will my dreams not make me toss ?
Comments
Thank you Stan
better late than never. :)
I like both the theme which you always excel usually and the use of the metaphor.
I especially like the first two stanzas though the whole write is a joy to read.
S1. L.4 Did you mean plane[t]?
Het Rula
Seems I'm running late a lot lately lol.......stan PS will check for that typo