The Dying Day Poem by Stephen Beckett
The Dying Day
The dying day
The setting sun
Wakes and realises
That what was really needed
Was already there
Was there all along
A glimpse of hope
Amongst the death berries
Long autumn nights
Away from the sneezes…
…Of summer and winter
and without the cold of spring
There in a place that only two people know
Is where I belong…Yet it’s so far away
Still…
Monday, April 10, 2006
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4/19/2024 7:52:13 PM # 1.0.0.1119
