Raeka Hillock Poems

A man by the seashore at the end of the day,
Sits like a statue as the gale grazing his face.
Twilight is the albatross that swiftly fly away.
Silently lies the archaic ship without a name.
...

An old lady once told me an incantation,
Which could drive my green age to preservation.
Why, said I, do your smirks wrinkle,
And your orbs no more twinkle,
...

From the the cerulean skyline
The herd of clouds dispersed.
...

I dreamt of the austere visage
Of the spying sun behind the cloud.
...