Morning by morning, day by day, night by night,
I get the sight long withing sighing,
feeling as if I'm dying,
It is look looking in the eyes of a hissing cobra
that possess the mind, in a world that is unkind.
In the name of a broken world, in it shines on dim
I'm standing by spitting shores,
the air leaps and wobbles.
As I write in a book
where everyone wants to take a look,
I can see they're getting hooked
on what it is you took.
The stir of leaves, on a chilly morning of Autumn
my heart bled on those stir pages of leaves in memories,
the whispering of wind are at the gates
where those memories lay,
that keep my spirit awake,
by night is the sighing, as my heart is breaking.
-Judy Emery © 1990 The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
YOU ARE READING
MEMORIES
PoetryMemories are things that come to me in happiness or sadness of sorrows, so I made poetry. Old memories you will always be a very big part of me.
