Elegy Written in Winnowy Weingarten

Sacred desires of a well-farmed verse,
Meddled in the lashes of a silent curse.
Songs are telling of my every unsuccess,
Dreams are in plenty but only to distress.
Abyss of the reality but fathomed by my heart,
Stuck around the corner and oblivious to start.
In the prison of days I have resentfully spent,
There is nothing to praise in the wake of lament.
Dreadfully shaken to the core by your gaze,
The likeness of odds is breaking out of the cage.
 

Have a nice life ............

4.9.07 18:53