adventures in dysthymia

Sunday, October 07, 2012

Hole, a poem

HOLE

Some days this hole goes so deep
I wish someone would come
along and fill it up.

Throw that dirt in, let me
wake on the other side
of forever. Dawn may

remember my name when time
is an empty glass
or maybe night will have

no end but its own.
It tells no one. It only
lets us sleep.

Stephen Brooke ©2012

Just a little thought, quickly jotted down.

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