The week parks the van,loosens its laces and sighs.Nothing left half-finished,noise fading from tired eyes. The evening leans in gently,like a friend who knows the way.Gleam glass catching candlelight,asking nothing of the day. And in that quiet unspoken pause,the aches feel far away.Friday evening glass of wine, We start the month of May.
Tag Archives: wine
The Time
How soon passed the time, my time of poetry and crime. Now I smash the goblet of this time, the time of poetry and wine. This time belongs to poetry, poetry and rhyme. For the ultimate glory of God I walk poetries thin line.
Smith Shine Poetry 