Quioxtic Night
Lost within the shadows of my mirror climbing angles into LightI went walking through fair, green forests of the past
Eyes on high, seeking fortune and favor met Don Quioxte last Night
Tilting at windmills, mountainous molehills cast
Cups of dice out of broken blue tint window panes
Thinking twice so outspoken wrapped in weather vanes
So we went
Heaven sent
To seek out such adventure as Life's roads may bring
And in our steps our tread we felt ready to spring
Such is surprise as might surmise those caught in a noble fight
Lost within shadows our mirrors clmbing angles into Light
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2021-06-11 at 19:15
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