The Last Leaf


Hope is not a gift of mine

The lonely hours, the empty

Memories and the nothing

In the dark wild, alone

And all I seek to keep

Withering while pretty tears rain down

Upon the stars wandering the moonbeams away

Dreams, shadowy, misty, lovely things

Hope in his sweetest hour

Reality brings the chilly wind

In the night – as a spell upon my soul

And the stars kiss the moon

Lovely in her loneliness

A midnight bell – a parting sigh

The breath of loneliness dissolving

In stardust flashing around me

The last leaf left behind

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Not much to tell, antisocial, bipolar, loner, poet. That's me in 4 word's.

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