Off the Cuff
I roll these words in the mere moment
off the cuff....
without posy (prims)
to say hello,
(ad-lib is the Lion)
A Beggar in the mud....
for a lighter brush;
with less darkness in verse,
She has fallen....
from grace,
I shudder ----
how wan the dying rose!
Her petals lilt,
(my wings plucked with shadow.....)
I've given all, but not enough,
love is absolute(ly).....
without delay in affection
I shall try to return with a rainbow
or two....
**(Wrote this 'off the cuff' for lack of material....)
Copyright © Keith O.J. Hunt | Year Posted 2015
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