Circle
062207
glenmore bacarro
It’s three in the morning
The wind blew.
The coldness inside
Froze every pride.
The moon hid,
'Coz shame outshined
But some stars shared
Every teardrop that fell.
Waiting from the dark
With the streetlights
Lamped the spot
Where a man of dream
Stood to wait
Someone who can grant
His wish uncommand
Dressed with his best shirt
Perfumed with fragrance
And of tears
For in the place
Where he stands
Lust chooses the best.
And lust means wealth
For a dreamer from dirt.
So when a car stopped.
On the man’s lucky spot
He had to smile
Before a tear will fall.
It’s three in the morning
The wind blew
The coldness inside
Froze every pride
The moon hid
For shame outshined
From a place where dreams
Can easily be found
Sins are made
A soul was lost
For a heavenly cost.
