Sunday, December 12, 2010

POEM: "The Waters"

The Waters

The sun is going deeper
I hear your thoughts begin to dance
At Bethesda, house of pity and mercy
By the old sheep market
I have grown so weary of my flaws
Lord, please save me from embattled men
Their seasons are all the waters we have
The evening burns to dark, and you say
You're just jealous because the voices only speak to me
This stunning revelation, I feed you a peach of peach.

© 2010 Rob Schackne

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