Before the grace
of winter nights
as the ground
lays cold and still
upon the face
lies fire's light
and a crackling sound;
these ears they fill
For here we hide
in Autumn's bosom
these dreams we confide
although we shouldn't
and stoke the flames
in our harmless play
finding games
in all we say
Before the spring
hearts will entwine
and all that it brings
after Winter's wine
For we like fools
once did believe
if we skirted the rules
we could still be free
Yet birds will cry
in nests unkept
while we wake nearby
the places we slept
(October 8th, 2017)
YOU ARE READING
Post Modern Mystic
PoéziaPoetry fills a need of the human heart to express through the construction of artistic verse, the things that hide in its depths. This book of poetry is my attempt to reach those places and beyond. See if I do. Let me know if I reach you. This will...
