Its Gleaming Light-Beams Washing My Old Soul
Its Gleaming Light-Beams Washing My Old Soul
So sad about some far-off hidden things
That are not my business, no not me
Washing these feet in such soothing hot springs
No not I, nosey as a damn ole busy bee!
Along the mountains, its jutting ridges
I walk admiring that fabulous star
Cross I the famous great seven bridges
This heart yet blinded wondering where we are!
Its gleaming light-beams washing my old soul
Saw evening as it slowly crept in
My worries stabbed me taking their deep toll
I a warrior but heavy are my sins!
There walked with majesty, the black-maned boar.
Snout rutting the ground, to find its next score!
Robert J. Lindley, Sonnet
Jan. 5th, 1979
Last edited by Tyr-Ziu Saxnot; Today at 08:33 AM.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2023
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