Tuesday, 11 August 2015

SONNET 3: Night's Coming

Come eve, frustrated winds doth blow 
leaves glide upon her tree's sorrow 
painted with a stroke of starlight 
they swim in the dark of the night 

A creature or two must witness 
he the beauty of it digest 
or altogether with a might 
turn away from its budding light 

Come eve howls slashing pierce the wind 
racing about the hills confined 
lambs afraid run with a might 
stepping on leaves with hooves a light 

Come eve exists no tomorrow 
come eve, dang'rous paths are narrow

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