Best Poems Written by Steve Moss

Robbie, When He Was a Young Lad.

The midnight clock cuts hours into the dark
that picture of you
sound asleep
one dream ahead
as children always are.
Little Robbie, you colour my tired mind.
Opening gates in long forgotton child meadows,
where once I ran through summer grasses,
now it grows for you.

Copyright © Steve Moss | Year Posted 2010