Neath a Thousand Candles
Twas the morn when the moon's thousand candles..
Lit a path for Lily Valley... Away from the always ~
Shouting...Never-ending midnight's darkness storm...
When suddenly.....The easterly wind lay down...
His breathy lengthy hand... Aside her flushing dew
Afore the glowing forehead... Of the morning sun...
Whilst the clouds grazed high above... Pretending ~
Not to notice the willows near by... No longer weeping..
As all along... The forest trees stood tall nearby..
Betwixt the sway of their green and lusty rumors...
Whilst... The elder deeply rooted mountain...
Remained a crusty spur ~ Moaning his earthy tones...
Copyright © John Boyle | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment