Low

Eyes like barren wastelands

Bent, twisted she kneels in the corner

Dimming the lights of her soul

A waning face she tips towards

A window not without a view

The light lies low on the horizon

Saddened yet not deprived of hope

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

what do you do...do you write a handful of poems, come paste them up here, and then run back to the closet...well, it's a sad tale, but you tell it about as well as it can be said