The phlox are flirting flippantly
aflame from dewy draughts
and roam the gently sloping lea
to feast on golden shafts,
though stymied by the stony walls
erected to define
they drain their cups as nighttime falls
to savor evanescent wine.
Are You Reading Me?
don't that just roll ever so exquisitely off the tongue.....
ReplyDeletegreat write, I love how fluid this poem is.
ReplyDeletehi paisley, why thank you ever so much.
ReplyDeletehey catalyst, you should definitely submit something to Word Catalyst with a name like that. Thanks a lot!
Sheer music! You should have been a musician! ;)
ReplyDelete