Brief November
Along the lost lanes of my life
Where pain and hope Blemish and blend
The child I was, and I, Traverse
An Enterprise of pock-marked maps
Whose stone doors Dampen splintered eyes
Flicked by fortune's Pernicious tongue
And with the forged Visage of thunder's sword
Her Sentry slays monsters of gray
Freeing Astral blooms to spark and blaze
Across the brief November sky.
11/07/20
8 Word Challenge 11 contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Copyright © Michelle Faulkner | Year Posted 2020
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