poetry contest

are you alive?
often i think of the beautiful town
when a deed is done for freedom
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
when i looked into your eyes
there by the window in the old house
let a joy keep you
mysterious night
rising moon has hid the stars
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
in and of itself
by the rude bridge
there's one that i once loved so much
over the river they beckon to me