deepundergroundpoetry.com

old wood

where does
yesterday
go
when it
is all over,
when it
prepares
to die,
to disappear
in that
last midnight
second,
one breath
away,
i cannot
walk among
the trees
while
the hours
are being
cut down,
stacked
and burned
like
old wood.
Written by wolfatthedoor1966
Published
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