No, Hours won't be dressed
in silence clothes.
Will not rest
under shady
hovels of grief.
Dream· punished child
will run
with hope-scooter to muddy road·
then, Anger, morose old man,
will fondle the look of laughter
and will die omniscient.
Let the Will stay on shore tonight..
So,in a mood light...
Lydia Lavda Drums Poetry
