Still Light

 

With the winter storm of your eyes

As the skies fill, tombs of snow

An ancient chant remains unheard

 

 

With words intoning what is not 

Exchanging meanings with the light

Still, in place of wasted motions

 

 

 





Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 78 times
Written on 2025-01-15 at 02:18

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