Beam of dark

Isolated in a lighthouse of toughts,
My soul is shivering from all the plots
I have made in my wacky, rusty sanity.
Or created 'em in glimpses of exotic vanity.

Nigh the smouldering fire the waves dance
So my daft thoughts now lusting for romance.
Kissing your lips below this ashen moon in night
Gave my sorrow the emptiness of foolish fright.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem