Email Poem

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Poem

It's time for my great NAVY to ashore,
in dandelion summer rest in peace,
forgetting anchor in the bog - to soar,
or rust neglected in the glitch, at least.

It's time to realize what you have meant 
by saying that you ought to make it hurt.
And, purely clear in this fair intent, 
you have wound up treating me like dirt.

You're still completely sure in your rave 
that life has been arranged in that way,
that if you want here something to be saved
than it shall be destroyed right away.

Our times.. for thirteen crazy rainy springs
to thoroughly forget them I have sworn.
Just stop impersonating in my dreams
All dreads and sorrows, binded up with thorn.

I wish that each my flattop had own wings.
I wish that all my fighters were shot down
and drowned in grace, defying misty winds.

I wonder.. will you lose your stainless crown?

1/06/2014
NikA

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