The Eagle's Gift
A being of ill-decree,
there, thoughts of
loves, lost to betrayal.
Taking remembrance, a
dove nestles amongst
some branches.
The love and glory
of thine own, embarked
upon the mystery
entrances.
As vigor pursuits
of fulfillment ensue,
let redemption entrail.
The mischievous bard,
did let on, a
curious, chance of labor.
For the sorrows
of valor's past
so subtley mistaken.
A faint glimmer in
his eyes, suddenly
gave way to a
slight interest,
o'er God,
forsaken.
Let the perils
of failures of
our past.
Blessed. . .
not find, traitor.
Twilight settled
upon the lonely
desert setting, of
rugged palms
and mystic wallow.
With a whimsical
embrace to surety
and the galliance
of the setting sun's
bravado.
A plan of divine
right. An expression
of knowledge shared,
our El Dorado.
As the bard's
spirit did chime
of righteous
victory. Yes, victory
was sure to follow.
For vises of sweet
mysterious tidings,
due to his own accord.
The mistress gypsy,
there spied swaying,
as the Eagles rose
and soared.
Copyright © Trevor Morse | Year Posted 2006
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