Dots Of Obscurity
Poem By gregory collins
To fall in love
I can hardly bring myself to say.
As though those far away hills
Always seem to be racing toward an end.
But as I get old
And at almost the same hour outworn.
I wonder what sins will they ask me about.
What patch of blue will smell of greening,
Or will the rising sun melt with an evening glow
As I stroll arm in arm into the ancient times.