Saturday, January 5, 2013

My Muse

I cite the times I pined for you,
yet often they were manifold.

Through tides deep lost, I ached for flair,
yet never had I told.

The keepers of the peach desire,
feigned well-rehearsed that made me stray.

Yet catchier wings of subtle wind,
have kissed my eyes and showed my way.

I sense your brush as dawning peaks,
atop the fiery spire.

With firmness borne to kiss my dream...
I set my ink on fire!

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