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highlanderPoems
Spare me these love powers, Thy covert  torture, In discreet shelters, Wait no more, I can’t walk nor run, To ingratiate myself as before, My child in company, Is having fun, Round and round the sun Or is it his shadow? Lingering, out of breath, Like the before to be mown meadow, Lushly, leaning to the morning breeze, Swaying with a subtle motive, A plenty of desire to live, Before death, Where art thou child? So delicate and mild, Lost among flowers So bright and wild, Yellow, pink and red, Splinters of your bed, Laughter and gestures, Have I lost my sight? Or art the eyes deceived by light? We shall not return tonight; Memories  of the dead or the Blind, That is insinuating visions for a widow, who is waiting the true return Of her old man and toddler.
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Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 12:03 AM UTC
Beguiled
Spare me these love powers, Thy covert  torture, In discreet shelters, Wait no more, I can’t walk nor run, To ingratiate myself as before, My child in company, Is having fun, Round and round the sun Or is it his shadow? Lingering, out of breath, Like the before to be mown meadow, Lushly, leaning to the morning breeze, Swaying with a subtle motive, A plenty of desire to live, Before death, Where art thou child? So delicate and mild, Lost among flowers So bright and wild, Yellow, pink and red, Splinters of your bed, Laughter and gestures, Have I lost my sight? Or art the eyes deceived by light? We shall not return tonight; Memories  of the dead or the Blind, That is insinuating visions for a widow, who is waiting the true return Of her old man and toddler.
highlander
Written by
highlander
57/M/Syria
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 12:03 AM UTC
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