A sonnet. -20th November 2012.
Of petal dust and perishing flower
Upon the barren beds of winters surge,
Calling throughout our sweet elegant hour
And the fresh arid seasons failing verge.
Yet of rising thoughts we fathom beauty
In reticent corners and oaktree shade,
Being blithe of day is springtime duty
T'was winter we smile of mistletoe made.
With boundless pastures of pale silhouette
Come regard of wolfberry and birdsong,
For tomorrows tide of dawn to be met
By our seasons shy bud of right and wrong.
I alone convene muse from falling fate;
Gracing amber twilight of winters late.
Poetry by John Ashleigh
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Written on 2012-11-21 at 00:10
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Wintertide.
Upon the barren beds of winters surge,
Calling throughout our sweet elegant hour
And the fresh arid seasons failing verge.
Yet of rising thoughts we fathom beauty
In reticent corners and oaktree shade,
Being blithe of day is springtime duty
T'was winter we smile of mistletoe made.
With boundless pastures of pale silhouette
Come regard of wolfberry and birdsong,
For tomorrows tide of dawn to be met
By our seasons shy bud of right and wrong.
I alone convene muse from falling fate;
Gracing amber twilight of winters late.
Poetry by John Ashleigh
Read 921 times
Written on 2012-11-21 at 00:10
Tags Nature 
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
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