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Such Lores


In the wightwoods paths tend to tangle
wend a winding ways we went
shadows of our footsteps lent
an obverse confuse end to angle.

Kythe we words whilst moonlight spread
Hours ancient Ides of oaken greens
Drew thee punctuating thread
As others thought behind the scenes.

Us we as were unto once more
Embrace in arbours souls surreal
To pen enchantments of such lore
Current circumstance may not conceal.



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 554 times
Written on 2012-12-18 at 14:51

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