a poem
it’s late
quiet
me and you
we
the silence of a black TV
flies humming
a lonesome buzz
we kiss
goodnight
and slip
into
silky dreams
keithdsutton52's Blog
"I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests." Pablo Neruda
keithdsutton52's Blog 
Awesome