Treasure Island

Walter C. Edwards


Hang Over


Precious moon that hangs over me,
still wind only wafts, beside me,
angles eyes, devils hearts,
do not scare me, or there darts,
take away the lies that they form,
curves of mystery,
sweet laughter,
drunkards speak,
sprits to wise I think,
for another drink,
sweep me away,
to that moon,
that gave me,
this hang over,
way to soon.

Submitted: Friday, May 03, 2013
Edited: Saturday, May 04, 2013
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