Wastwater's Enchantment
Beneath the cobalt veil nothing blows.
Lying vast but still, a cloth of silken black.
Only an amiable ripple articulates its presence.
Imposing contours loom purposely
Declaring their magnificence
And my insignificance.
Illuminations pin pricked into the veil above.
More than you could count
Even with a lifetime given.
A Prince of unquestionable pedigree.
Enticingly fragile.
Dauntingly resolute.
Copyright © Paul Stacey | Year Posted 2009
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