Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2018
The midnight soul, in its angelic form
Waiting for the last train on the platform
The midday body, like a withered leaf
Seeing the train leave in utter disbelief
As the clock ticks forward the body fades
Time, as they say, an enemy that breaks
Only the soul remains at the strike of twelve
And a dark night overpowers the shining day
Written by
5oulPoet
150
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems