bending upon a bank
of this winsome river
a weepy willow
sighed:
'Oh for the day
that I, my tears
again may find...'


Like a feuilleton
transported on wings of jubilant breath,
so go each wandering thought of our souls,
on carpets that fly the skies of imaginings.





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Author Notes

A blend of western and oriental forms in a fusion of free form. I hope you enjoy this entry.