Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

circadian rhythm


I have laid with some fine woman
when younger.
Never having tasted the grape
I've made wine?

It's been seven long years
I still fight
the good fight for my only daughter.

My sight it now starts to grow dim
not yet blind.
Through tomorrow, today I still know.
Some what less frequently.

Only through stress
and only through stress did I know.
That the way to my heart
lay deep in my head when I dreamed.

One fat women I laid with, when older.
The sad part I think
is the part that made dreams.
I feel it's gone.

Submitted: Friday, January 24, 2014
Edited: Saturday, January 25, 2014
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