I’ll not weep in, this, the Devil’s hour.
I might not laugh, but I won’t be dour.
The blur of winged fury sweeps above.
Each thinks of his first and last love,
wondering which of these memories
his dying mind will last see.
Whichever it is, I’ll not be dour,
though this be the devil’s hour.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 
I like this.
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Thanks.
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I loved your poem~ but now I’m wondering, what’s the Devil’s Hour?
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I’m using it metaphorically, but some people call the hour between 3 and 4 in the morning the Devil’s hour.
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Oh, I see, I see (:
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