Gently closer winter creeps down the
mountain peaks to chase the sun away and, each
evening, dusk is quicker in its fall than
the last and in this fading, precious light,
I sit between these old, hallowed halls to stare
unseeing into these soulless eyes of
Whitman as he writes of grass and leaves
so eloquently, here I watch and try to learn.
Sep 9, 2019
Sep 9, 2019 at 8:31 PM UTC
Gently closer winter creeps down the
mountain peaks to chase the sun away and, each
evening, dusk is quicker in its fall than
the last and in this fading, precious light,
I sit between these old, hallowed halls to stare
unseeing into these soulless eyes of
Whitman as he writes of grass and leaves
so eloquently, here I watch and try to learn.
My campus has a statue of Walt Whitman writing and his eyes are just holes, so yeah, that was the inspiration.
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