Rolls In, With The Fog Poem by james watkin

Rolls In, With The Fog



Before its gold, in dimming
Day-faced, through its dying
Sight, sigh for, am recompensed.
Bequeathed of this feeling.
What of this eve's does portend.
Past youth's flush, at life's end!
Edge of each agitation
Smoothed, soothed down. Grudges mend.

Monday, April 17, 2023
Topic(s) of this poem: evening,feeling
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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