The Night Is Just A Blanket Poem by Allan James Saywell
The Night Is Just A Blanket
Losing love can be like
Playing a bad riff
On a golden stringed guitar
But the road is long
The wind blow strong
The smell of a good sea
Will follow me every where
People will stare
At the colored clown
With the comic frown
They will all cry out
Who needs a big tent
When your canopy is full with stars
Thursday, April 26, 2012
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5/11/2024 1:19:20 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Nice poem about the night.well done Allan