Friday, October 5, 2018

Sensed Valentine

The constellating style of nature
Remains the ruling exemplar
Of those who feel immortal
 
A sense that lasts all morning long
Then goes on nibbling at the edges
As the day progresses into depths
 
Of some lost mythic self
Always swimming
Just below the surface
 
At midnight it emerges
Dropping the body on the bed
Little yellowed cocoon
 
So worn and torn
Flying off its wings still wet
To praise and mourn

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