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SIGIL

SIGIL It makes no sense, nor ever will I felt that misty morning chill Tense, like the strings of a guitar An experience, quite bizarre A void that nobody could fill Weary from slumber yet so still As my thoughts I must now distil Life is just etching on my soul It makes no sense Any scent of lilacs is nil No inspiration for my quill The hidden words I can’t cajole I sigh at pointless rigmarole Meaning now a mere codicil It makes no sense

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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Date: 7/27/2024 6:45:00 PM
Excellent!
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Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry