Till Time Comes to an End Impressions vague and amorphous, images liquid washing one into another, colors exchanged with shapes and tones and feel, dozing I realize I want to try to write it, why I don't know, why stop to take a snap, but that it holds a bit of truth, of reality, a moment not to lose; notebook open pen in hand, and it's gone as quick as it came, it's gone like a hobo, grabbing the next train to anywhere, that was then, was there;...
Related Subjects
Poetry