Cold. Stars. A breath you can see.
Hills stand round a village like ignored guests
at a reception.The lights of the street fail; they obey not.
The second; the sleet forces my face down
to the wet road. It is nearly time.
The end; I return to a home that kicks me.
Cold. The stars ice. Midnight.
Leslie Philibert's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Sketch by Leslie Philibert )
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
Did you read them?
- hey stickshift, it's like this..., Mandolyn ...
- Commodore Lionel B. Richie, Richard Thripp
- Her Kindness Is Real, Nihil Existentia
- TRAITORS خونة - خائنين, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- I Will Bathe My Dreams, Kyle Schlicher
- For what is my purpose?, The Princess
- Mother. Mother., beresford mitchell
- In the waiting room, Anna Garland
- THEY CAN NOT KILL THEIR WILL لايقدرون عل.., MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Haiku And Fruit, Kyle Schlicher