I curse the day I learned your name,
became part of your needful game.
My hate burns fierce, aflame today;
disgust, the clinker, rolls away.
A sweetness hangs in rainy air;
horizon whispers you are there,
remembering the cherished sight
of soft-lit treasures, plump and ripe.
I rode that team: chestnut and grey,
through evening valleys far astray.
ВИ ЧИТАЄТЕ
Gifts and Shards Vol 2
ПоезіяThis is the second and final volume of 'Gifts and Shards'. This takes us from the second month to now well over three years later, though there were many C poems in the collections tracking the seasons. There are no similar stories!
