Night Watchman
The flame in contest combats the chill of the night
I see an old man in remembrance of his youth
his words gaped in jest if only to shroud life’s plight
scars of countless carnal lies a hub of untruth.
In the brazier raindrops snarl, routine so trite.
© Harry J Horsman 1991
Copyright © Harry Horsman | Year Posted 2010
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