02 Mar


On this most witless errant night,
stand I, ‘neath undeciphered sky,
with stray thought in wanton flight
of heedless vogue, remember why;
‘ere I should stir yon stars’ respite,
or dare possess such wings to fly,
that on firmament, boding alight,
this severed skein of words have I;
for, with determined means of right,
in bolder words, as whispered sigh,
set I to task this devoted write,
and offered read to stars on high.

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Posted by on March 2, 2016 in My Poetry



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