I think of things, I dare not speak of
My mind reels, while men march in distant lands
And, we're a secret society; the pathetic
Quivering in the cold, treacherous, night
Wondering why our thoughts guide us
To open, blooming, fields or dead, alley ends
I hunger for tempting, apples
Whilst, the serpent writhers through a lie
Smiles and extends a false start
No more disappointments,
Because, here in Pomona; land of agriculture
The sounds echo through and bounce off
Old hotels with broken windows
Whilst, I dream of swinging off some fire escape
In a starry, dark, blue Winter's moon
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Submission Name: Starry Dark Blue Winter's Moon
