Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2014
The waning moon.

Winter breathing frost upon my pillow,
the pain all too familiar, heart beating…shallow.
Lying here, listening to the taps of frozen rain.
Dreams of hope, giving me optimism…feigned.

The morning sun.

I caught of glimpse of my reflection
more like a shadow standing in my direction;
Unrecognizable to me, the weary look of affection.

This day spawned within the night;
dawn becomes the dusk as I remain
in the light.
David W Jones
Written by
David W Jones  Las Vegas, Nevada
(Las Vegas, Nevada)   
712
   bex and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems