Is It Poetry
Every Night Some One Leaves
Every day before night often is.
Grasping for the open source,
high in the clouds it is close.
A friendly face I came through.
The day that moving water stopped,
I understand that feeling full,
glazed eyes, my smothered memories.
When they greet me at the top.
I see that someone I once knew,
never wants to leave.
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Comments about this poem (Every Night Some One Leaves by Is It Poetry )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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