Friday, December 4, 2015

18 My Not Quite Iambic Pentameter Poem

My face agaisnt the window pressed I stare
As darkness o'er the city streets doth creep.
Then rain pours down and then a candlw falres,
And mist begins to rise and indoors seep.

In quiet gloomy dark I sit alone
A flooroard creakes somewhere for down below
The books against the wall are all I've known
The shadows from the candlw dance and flow

One might the loneliness of quiet feel
The silence there is one that can't be broken
To disapate the folds of night I cannot will
The words I said as if not spoken

But in the deepening comfort of the night
My dearest cat is all I need tonight

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