tagNon-Erotic PoetryEvening Hillside

Evening Hillside

byRemec©

The friendly peace of the Games is done.
The sickles have cut herbs, the scythes grasses.
All lie in wait, drying, having been mown.
While the silent Hay Moon passes.

I lie beneath its silvery light,
My future walking through my mind,
Dozing, breathing in the summer night,
I worry over what I've left behind.

Task and plans, being always left undone,
While I stare at the Moon, sleep through the Sun.

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byRemec© 6 comments/ 3559 views/ 0 favorites

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