When i fade i do it slowly
and this is something you
know like when i am trapped
within the small shadows
of the moon
when i fade it is a cry
the last semblance of me
when infinity becomes a
friend with old hands
which favors time
when i fade the world believes
that morning and night are
one entwined within our Lives
what do you think may happen
if Love were Free?
:: 12-03-2016 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 