Epiphany
The tyrannic moan of the refuse truck;
the granite of the rook`s caw,
the windows suffer under sleet,
The street is lighted yellow
for the survivors, the last ones.
Your breath is soft beside me,
each pause fills the darkness.
Dream I am better than I am,
the night`s follower, the undecided.
Copyright © Leslie Philibert | Year Posted 2015
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