Holding down the sinking sun,
clouds clean and clump the
crimson reds together pressing
them against the dark blue sea.
Writer in San Francisco, CA

I saw her at the
Crossroads, black dog at her heel
A torch in her hand
Another drink, a day gone
Torch burning in the darkness
Holding down the sinking sun,
clouds clean and clump the
crimson reds together pressing
them against the dark blue sea.