A melancholic gaze Upon my walks I have, born out of wanderlust, Having thoughts and feelings 'bout dust And Byron's ways,
The wind is in my raven hair, A poet is my heart, Between hope and despair I classify my written art.
Many women and wine out of still skulls I am a stranger to, But not to skills Of natures who're romantic as a hue.
I've been reading more ABOUT Lord Byron than reading Lord Byron lately these times. I can say that his ways as a poet do motivate me to become a better poet myself.