Bill Hammersley Poems

Night follows night and I sit here in my chair
Afraid to sleep, afraid to bare my hidden desires buried there
The walls of my abode hold secrets never told
So dark, so hidden in my soul
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In my youth, my early days of life
I met and loved the defect beauty of Lorraine.
Her eyes so slightly crossed
Made beautiful by the loss of single image sight.
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The silent rain falls gently by my window feeding, earth spreading
Moist across the meadow’s face.

Both tree and flower drink the silver liquid with avaricious thirst
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Night slides in over the setting sun
The warmth of darkness gives comfort to the weary one
And amber mists of dreams invade the waiting mind.
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</>Of great and Shakespearian tales past told
We dare not the mysteries to behold
To tell again to students new
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