November 11, 2019
"Mes de los Muertos"

 

Life in Exile

 
 
 

Life in Exile

So alone, dark has returned,
the trees are bare, rain is falling.

This guilty conscience, I harvest
her memory every night in dreams.

Life in exile, blues plays the sunrise,
I play the reclusive music notes, swirling.

No one shall notice if the world should
stop, no one will notice if I slip away.






Article © Wayne Russell. All rights reserved.
Published on 2019-09-02
Image(s) are public domain.


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Life in Exile

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