Is it to late,
Maybe its fate,
This feeling makes me woolly,
Maybe its fate,
This feeling makes me woolly,
For those who go,
But never know,
Beyond the witching hour,
Where colours bleed,
The mind recedes,
Back to the world of dreams,
Our's is a place,
Of wonderous grace,
Where magic kisses the soul,
For me a magical image with such an urging rhythm that I wish it would continue - the comma at the end suggest this, too ... :)
ReplyDeleteThankyou Martin for your kind comment, and welcome to my blog :)
ReplyDeleteVery few of my poems are finished, so maybe I will come back to it sometime.