Sestina
Sestina sounds romantic like a lazy siesta with a Latin lover.
Foxy tanned skin and dreamy pools of irises.
Words can confuse and taunt the innocent and simple mind.
Words can turn vile and bitter after the romance has faded.
Lovers become cold and distance, leaving an empty shell of
A former grandeur, and burned out emotions that are unable
To form a complete sentence. Dare I say poetic words that do not flow?
When all hopes have been doused with ice...
Do I dare revisit the sestina again? Hope beyond hope for a reunion of words and
cohesive thoughts? Is it possible to have a poetic thought again?
Old friend, my eraser, comes along on this adventure. When you reduce, my sestina
will rise again from my thoughts!
Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2010
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