As we spoke, <br />The summer warmth caressed <br />The hour; the black night <br />An hour as black as figs <br />An hour that defied the moon’s angry vigil <br />An hour that cried for it’s rightful place <br />An hour that demanded <br />An hour that commanded <br />An hour that spoke of centuries <br />As if it knew them by name <br />As if the wind itself set the minutes adrift.<br /><br />Guillermo Veloso<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-hour-2/
