drawn to the edge of specific gravity
from which liquid mystery
emanates exotic fragrance
known to call a man down
to the deep of depths
beyond the wilderness of loneliness
past the advance of caring –
lest you be drowned in desire
for want of love.


4 Replies to “1.00am”

  1. Sometimes when I start a piece of poetry I'm not sure where it's going, a few words come and I follow their trail to the finale. This is one of those. Than you, Darla. 🙂

  2. You're most welcome, Eaton, and thank you for sharing insight into your process. I must say that my short stories usually emerge with no foreseen conclusion. It's fun to see where our fancies take us!

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