The day had started late-
and now it's one a.m.,
like the closing of a gate-
the night soon gone again.
When we lose the things we love,
the things we hate are blamed;
at times the lines are blurred,
and the two are just the same.
But there is no turning back,
I'm stuck on this one-way lane;
where the waiting drives me mad-
and the hoping keeps me sane.
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Whispers...
PoetryWhispers.. Is a book about random poems from random people and poets on random topics. These poems on whispers are not mine ❌❌❌ They belong to their rightful writers. Most of the poems are taken from printerest. If any of you readers wants your...
