midnight poem
four white-washed walls:
black, though, in only
dimmed nacreous moonbeams that
flicker.
you wait for day to come,
hoping for hallow’d Apollo to
grace the day,
knowing that
only this infinite twilight will last
forever.
midnight poem
four white-washed walls:
black, though, in only
dimmed nacreous moonbeams that
flicker.
you wait for day to come,
hoping for hallow’d Apollo to
grace the day,
knowing that
only this infinite twilight will last
forever.