Benjamin Posted May 1, 2012 Share Posted May 1, 2012 Between the braids of early morning's wiles I glimpse old shades; and they reach out to me from rocks in misty lanes and wooden stiles, where purple heather blooms sedate and free. They spiral up like dark and knowing gulls to act as marks in books; promoting days where obligation of the heart still pulls on lines and verses from each well thumbed page. But in this new dawn’s glow, an opiate of sunlight spokes lifts me on airborne wheels. I ride a Doppler skirling chariot with ticket-whip and passport burnished shield. It's steeds are champing on the warm west wind all advocates of conscience to rescind. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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