The Hour Poem by guillermo veloso
The Hour
As we spoke,
The summer warmth caressed
The hour; the black night
An hour as black as figs
An hour that defied the moon’s angry vigil
An hour that cried for it’s rightful place
An hour that demanded
An hour that commanded
An hour that spoke of centuries
As if it knew them by name
As if the wind itself set the minutes adrift.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
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4/26/2024 9:35:20 AM # 1.0.0.1119
