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Oct 2017
For Rob, bearer of absinthe

Could it have troubled Pandora’s mind,
On learning where Hope springs -
At the base of her box she chanced to find
The cruellest devil with angel’s wings?

To foresee it seep into our veins -
Leave us to trip, blunder and fall,
Cause mankind monumental pains,
And make a mockery of us all.

As the drowning atheist looks to the skies -
Before a wave knocks him to his demise
Into an absurd and uncaring ocean.

Somewhere a poet quietly smarts
The excess love from her swollen heart
And on a page whispers her devotion.
A poem inspired by the work of Charles Baudelaire that mostly came about because I told a guy I'd write him a sonnet when I was drunk and it still seemed like a fun idea sober.
Evie Brill Paffard
Written by
Evie Brill Paffard  York
(York)   
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