A Prophet's Thought At Sunset
"Take me home," the prophet said,
With storm clouds closing in;
With tones of a windy din.
All the sky was stricken red.
"My home is far." With distant gaze
The prophet seeks a glimmer,
The starlight growing dimmer,
Above the massing clouded haze.
"My home is fair," the prophet said,
Two bright eyes on the end.
To him the hope did lend
A respite to his restless head.
With storm clouds closing in;
With tones of a windy din.
All the sky was stricken red.
"My home is far." With distant gaze
The prophet seeks a glimmer,
The starlight growing dimmer,
Above the massing clouded haze.
"My home is fair," the prophet said,
Two bright eyes on the end.
To him the hope did lend
A respite to his restless head.
posted by Hayden | 10:17 AM
4 Comments:
Awesomeness. :)
Is this what you were writing on the napkin in the caf the other day? I liked it.
yes
and thank you
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