Stories in Verse and Prose

Every day a new story comes to life. Most of them remain unwritten. But some of them deserve to be put in writing.

True or fictitious, I jot them down. Some in prose; others in verse. And a few of them get their own tune.

Night

I don’t think it’s my thing to rageAgainst the dying of the lightWhen I have reached the final stage,I know I won’t put up a fight I’d rather let the night caress This body I’ve worn thinI’ll have a sip of wine, undress,And gallantly sink in

This morning

The wordsYou whispered in my ear this morningThey were life One sentenceAnd you revealed how well you know meIt made me cry

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