End
Incandescent to the inclement weather
The stem of branch and leaves of wrath
Bend a form of shadow sorry
Channeling a call to arms
Of pagan fire and loves desire
To compensate the broken dreams
Of the pipers whistle
That brush around the field's of thistles
For nightingales to rise on harp string passes
Like words and verse the youth ignore
Never where we so rich yet succumbed to feeling poor
In the time that prevails
To the inferred
At the world's end
Copyright © Christopher Flaherty | Year Posted 2018
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