By: Imrogue
Flickering lights
illuminated my way
through the tunnel of sorrow.
Coldness in the night

A wind comes from the north
Blowing little flocks of birds
Like spray across the town,
And a train, roaring forth,
Rushes stampeding down

waiting for death
like a cat
that will jump on the
bed
I am so very sorry for

“you know,” she said, “you were at
the bar so you didn’t see
but I danced with this guy.
we danced and we danced
close.