i.

I wilt montivagant over her lid's
Whilst I ooze out of mine shoe's;
A bulrush to surround us, breezing
Swaying to freedom's wind.

ii.

We art kin, trapped in another's being
But this trapped feeling is good, carved into wood;
Ourn name's, struck by lightning, hidden by flame's
All's amazing with her comfort, for her I hush.

iii.

Silence is all I needeth, as I stareth to her guise
The sun waketh up, as her vintage reaches mine cup;
She's the core to all upward truth's
She's the reason to be alive.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication