The rolling down feast of salt,
The acrid stench of dead desires,
Rotting frame of past liaisons,
Loneliness seeping into tired bones.
Roll in the hay,the valuable spent,
All come rushing to my Mind,
At the very mention of few names.
Distance not withstanding,
In this era of means.
what matters is the climax,
Of tales begin in hush hush tone.
Destiny Poets
Uniting and celebrating the best "Writers" and "Poetry" from around the world centred out of Destiny Church Wakefield
A poem exploring the inaccessible corners of ennui and disappointment.
heartfelt thanks for appreciation.