Spots Of Lo
There is a spot stop, watch as it crawlsat random about the bedroom walls
shape or form maybe seen or no
one knows where is it going to
go away a while come back to leave and stay
just the shadow of a ghost clothed in gray
trees grow just below the windowpane glass
opens close reveal rose diamonds in the grass
pass on paths the moonlight laughs and cries
masses morning whilst the butterflies
weep with wings starred with blots of indigo
golden feathers with spots upon them, lo.
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 1702 times
Written on 2014-03-20 at 11:27
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