by John Herzog
I'll never forget the coruscations
of heaven and land which gleamed past,
And I descry in trepidation
that I should've known they wouldn't last.
Far too late to savor their taste,
for all I have done is waste.
So there's no turning back
on this one-way street.
Wandering through the fog,
can I trust my own feet?
Author's Note: I believe I wrote this one at around 4 a.m. one day during the summer. I need a life.
Posted on 12/31/2008
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