Let me just say that I don't usually write poetry. This poem just sort of hit me full in the face one night when I was lying in bed trying to get to sleep. But I wrote it down and thought it might interest a few people so I'm putting it up here.



The Time


A cloak of black
two crimson eyes
float through the street
on unseen sighs.

The silent street
but for one door
whose anger moves to sorrow
that They choose to ignore.

To sorrow�s door
the eyes proceed
while darkness sings
and light recedes.

Boney fingers raise
a knocker they find
but the knocks he hears
are in his mind.

Since this is my poem I really would like it if you asked me before using it anywhere. You can do that easily enough anyway since I have several ways to contact me back on the main page.


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�1999