Broken Tambourine

In sweet May time

Ramble on new life,

Paint me tangerine in black and white pictures

With living inks and dust of youth.

 

A forest troubadour with a

Broken tambourine to play,

Pausing to dwell at the fork in the road;

To think and dissect

The living mould.

One diamond thought cuts through

And Athens is doomed.

 

Eyes shimmering like silent waterfalls,

Your long blond hair curls;

Ash shavings burn brightest and quick

Where beauty escapes and distils forever,

Unspeakable verse of unseen

Pleasure.

 

We didn’t want to get all emotional,

But we did.

I was not even there,

Where your shadow remains.

Who will tend the garden now you are gone?

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4 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    Renard Moreau said,

    [ Smiles ] You poetic style is lovely!


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