With the Sun Going Down With Nowhere To Go
With scars adept to traffic,
I go sideways: The dogs want out.
They are very needy, and the days are needy
Too. Another one has eaten the world,
My soul is joyous- but my face tired-
If I sold wine, I’d be beautiful,
I’d have a little family, and a house in the
Snow- I’d play with my daughter under the
Tree, and I wouldn’t listen no matter what
The serpent sang to me;
And my soul is joyous, it has nowhere to go.
Maybe tomorrow it will follow the sun outside
And around the world a bit;
Maybe it will visit you and crenellate your daughter
Like a good luck charm, and influence more
People to consummate you- They consummate you
Already with the sun going down,
The cars swirling down the mountain as if in a
Clever, automated dream; their faces winding down,
But I should think that their souls would like
To crenellate your daughter with me too.
She is drooling on a bib you wear over your gown,
With the sun going down with nowhere to go.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
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