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Poems :  At sunset
 
Sometimes the sunset smells like death.
So I need to get lucky
to watch the swallows dance.

Sometimes I can not even dream,
because reality does not allow.
Worse: I have nowhere to complain.

It's ... My world is this ...
Sometimes I am well liked,
other times I'm not even seen.

No one sees that the afternoon sun,
shines without bragging.

A.J. Cardiais
19.02.2015



A poet, a dreamer, a seeker, a hippie, a anarchist... I do not know! A hobo, trying to improve the world. Click to see original Image in a new window

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AJ_Cardiais
Author AJ_Cardiais
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Date 2019/4/5 1:00:04
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