Ferris Jones Poet Quatrain

Poet's Do Cry

With a Poet's lie, I weep,
Streaming heaps of memories,
Declaring mortal bliss to all,
Even as the turbulent wilderness falls.

Gathering the wind while I watch the light's smile,
Playing the music of our shadows,
Of what was once our anointment, 
I, the Poet cries with disappointment.

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