Poem By David Blake
Twised shades of light, dreary
dreamy haze that passes into a
twlight Shivering cold with
winters first chill, I pass through
the ocens foamy delight.
Caught between what I know is
wrong and refusing to do what is
right I realize heavens plight.
Lingering to long I begin to fell
her icy fingers then the bite.
Bitter sweet memory, I find what I
came to see. The shadowy
figuers beside me remain as I
desend deeper into the night.