Wednesday, September 26, 2012


Goodbye to you on the wayside.

Barren trees line the road.

Distant memory.

I cannot sleep,
I cannot speak.

It'd be a sin to say what I need to say,
In your eyes,
But they don't see me anyways.

The rust colored sunbeams are breaking through.

But I'm cried out.

©Manny Sanoja, Jr