Spent Hours
Softer than a whisper of a dream
my paper moon
has found no homestead
The morning dew
sees the dazzling of rain
When the party finishes before time
There's none who you can absolve you
Blurry revellers empty the streets
and the turn around
kicks like a harlequin
to scratch your gilded fears away
Copyright © Antony Glaser | Year Posted 2025
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