Playing the Role

My poems soar like birds in seamless sky, my innate imagination they take to the fringe of formless cloud as they fly, framed in changing self-design my muse makes. Wishing to see if the image you like I let the birds sing outside your window, hoping the rhythmic chord your sense would strike, you’ll feel rhyme of air flow in your meadow. If you aren’t in sync this never happens, but you’ve the right to judge my poetry. May not find the desired lines my muse pens, I take my course, you take yours, for you’re free. On subjective art it’s hard to opine, you play the critique’s role, let me play mine. May 7, 2021 Syllable count : 10 per line (howmanysyllables.com) Contest : Judge Not Lest Ye Be Sponsor : John Lawless