Night….
Night
To the vampire is life
Another feeling to the husband and wife
Night
Is when the vagabond teens prefer
For promiscuity will occur
But mine,
A repeated elegy to be read
As contemplation cut a swathe through my head
Night
You have made me a grand old master
To prophesy melancholy ahead
Now my young shoulders can hold no longer
My old head.
Night
A period I reserve to cry
For I will see no one around to ask me why
At night
Sometimes when I cry
I forget that the day
Lies just a few hours away.
poem by Elorm Dogbo
Added by Poetry Lover
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