Because the empty station only longs to know the day,
The sleeping hours wait smoothly, as their anguish drifts away;
Leaves me somewhere so far gone; though who's the one to say
The day is lost, I don't belong; forgotten now, the way.
...
Read full text
This is the kind of poetry I savour, a little bit rock, a little bit lonely. Thanks, Patricia.
None of my votes are sticking. Otherwise, you'd have a full room of 10's at this point. Dear reader, mind the gap and continue along on the journey of Patti's poetry... -c