creedon@reed.UUCP (Thomas A. Creedon) (04/03/85)
LAST QUARTER
He lies by my side
Sleeping in the sun
Patterns and light glide
Over him softly One
Eye flickers then
He is still.
I am mending, tending
The broken roots and stems
So wishing I weren't rending
This gentlest of ends
Deeply I cry.
Holly
This poem is by a friend of mine. Critique?