Spirit Rises

Half faced moon looks down
On quiet houses
Caravans float in wet grass
Distant hills like islands
In the mist
Into tree rimmed tunnels
The road sways like a lover
As music trickles into ears
The spirit rises
A new day has begun


Tired Eyes

Tired eyes don’t regret
The night before
But they are still tired

(C) Copyright Mark B Williams 2014
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