POEM: The Devil’s Hour

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.

5 thoughts on “POEM: The Devil’s Hour

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.