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.
