The Poet Within
For you starless nights stretch out
and scare away the morn,
and yet it's you who tint and tinge,
who paint and adorn
every thread and strand that you stitch
and loop with the years
into the fine fabric of Life, Love,
Death, it appears,
as you daydream nights at the seam
of a seamless shore,
sketching the now and tomorrow,
spinning yarns of yore
beneath borderless horizons
of the ocean skies,
till love knows no more your heart,
till sight disowns your eyes.
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