The Hours That The Night Doesn'T Memories Keep (From, Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Yesterdays are sometimes all lost
In their bouquets of the stillborn flowers
The darkness in there is to both sides tossed
Not bound to the memories the gone hours
Each night that comes forward can keep its take
With loneliness in its gathering ways
And something of somber there still make
In the returning tinctures of grays

Every deep and close lulls of the sleep
That the blackness has no way for to swarm
Or it’s pealing tail of shadows dancing
The hours that the night doesn't memories keep
Only coldness of time instead of its warm
And life letters of past away chancing