a taste of never

the evening stretched its arms, and she 
looked out upon the aging sky; 
he saw her through his sadness, thinking 
hope does not deserve reply -- 

while on that deck of still-damp wood, 
the shadows started playing: 
a taste of never, framed with trees, 
and wishes more like 

praying

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

Leave a Reply