Is It Poetry (1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)
Under Cover Of Day
I opened it up the last the door,
here where I stand,
I am lost, I gaze out at the sea.
Just past the first row of standing stones.
A strong north wind it howls as it blows,
green foam across vast empty space.
Standing up, she is straight,
he is reaching out for love, night's veil
of those lost years.
She can't see past all of the clouds,
reciting incantations until he calls out.
From where all have waited to be called,
it is his last turn.
Three more turns of the wheel the spokes.
Lost in the void three more turns,
he knows that she has.
Ancient the muse said more than allowed.
Comments about this poem (Under Cover Of Day by Is It Poetry )
People who read Is It Poetry also read
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley