Posted in Poetry

West of the Moon

The sun drives his golden chariot

Into the west of the mountain

Carrying the day’s memories

Over to the end of the misty horizon

As she watches the declination

Sitting on the top of the hill alone.

Author:

I write stuff of my interest that does not interest anyone in my blog. No grammarians, no copy editors, no marketers, no cynics are welcome.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s