My voice is shallow and cannot be heard.
I see with refinement even in crepuscular.
Desultory are my thoughts unraveled,
But my spirit is fulfilled with exuberant joy.
I drag my feet in a halcyon way.
A visceral mocking and a cynical mocker I am.
The snoring, as I travel on feet, was sonorous.
Penumbra was beneath the trees.
An opulent within his aristocratic jealousy,
However, I do not speak of these things.
Written January 28, 2016!
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2016
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