[untitled]

the lists diminish,
to their hiding places.
and of him,
not a single syllable.
eventually, achingly
up to darkness
sheets spread out,
bearing the weight.
their fibres absorbing
waiting until morning.

Reviews

[Alaska Frost]

Great poem!! It was well-written. I have one question though: What does "the lists diminish" mean?
-Alaska Frost :)