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David Hilburn Jun 2022
Sense of a sulking
Light to favor the window
The rose of unity in passing
Has a question to its lips, the corners of woe?

Having a seat in such a chamber
Requited history to assume a table
Of friends of airs, the toil of another world
Once in love, twice a gifted artist, another time and a fable

See the heat I make, when sight has a call
To require adage, from the poise we know
To ends in a prophet's hands, the tale of all
And every fate of shall, the world have those?

A glass of wine...
And summation is a harrowing gone missing
The truth to be held, for an austere shine
As we see the composure of sin, sigh when is

Include me in the pout, the pout of sincerity
Where one more kindness, has a moment to consider
Serpents of long teeth, that savor the taste of need, visionary's?
And abated breath, the comment I make is meant, here...

Where art has a clue...
To vices charity, an instinct that also has chaste due
When the mirth, the homage, the drama of younger and older who
Is but a catch of light, on the silence we bare, is our promise to...
Mozart once said, "The music is not in the notes, but in the silence in between"
She would scratch the surface
To let the old paint fall
Exposing the barrenness
Of the walls.

Then she would,
As she was hired to do,
Cover it up with a foliage
Of green. Nonetheless
Mimicking growth.

- 01/20/16

— The End —