Latabules untouched even by the dawn's eyes.
A safe haven that even safety can not find,
clothed in darkness and shrouded in melancholy aubades that ring out calling for their muses.
Only they call in vain for there is no one to hear their cries.
Cries for comfort,
cries for companionship,
cries desperate to be answered hang in still air.
For these latabules are left unseen by all,
forever shrouded in the predawn darkness
YOU ARE READING
Poetics and Musings
PoetryJust a place to keep some original poetry. Feel free to leave feedback, I always am looking for it
