The old black bag, now faded and worn,
struggles to hide senescence, decrepitude, decay.
The moon, awash behind heavy cloud and dark rain,
smiles brightly in the sea of black and ancient light pricks.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
2012.01.04 — The old black bag, now faded and worn (A River of Stones#1-04)
Labels:
A River of Stones,
bag,
decrepitude,
Haiku,
moon,
rain,
senescence,
stars
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