Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Chiselled

212

I chiselled at your image,
revealed the puzzle clear,
made luminous your heart,
left nothing else to fear.

Dumb were left the angels,
superior and wise,
lucid was my loving;
hollow were your smiles.

Foreign were the moments,
feckless were your aims;
drank the wine of sorrow,
saw the darkening stain.

There would be no winner,
once the die was cast,
drunk on sour misery;
mourn our time now past.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

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About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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