Fit

Impeach the air, if you can see
it carries sound, not from decree.
Our love between, infinity
exhorting faith's infirmity.

And then restore, no word seems free
to fitting, as monotony
does fit a schedule to a fee,
I fit no pace that shoulders thee.

For I result but of a life
and thee, but of a constant strife.
The joke by par expand relies
the futile here, of what is guise.

Do fit thy needing to concise,
as being loved, affords ~ applies!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace