~~~The ~ Poet~~~
May 11, 2024
~~~~~The things his age which hold his Soul
On their own page write their own Book
Of Life. Long ago when he wrote
These lines, it wasn’t so long ago.
~~~~~Times drifting on now like a wisp
Of smoke on a swift summer breeze.
He writes of his life as his life
Is slowly consumed by his work.
🕯️
~~~~~The lights flicker. His life flashes before his eyes;
Waste & desolation fill his house with a
Aroma thick with sin. “What a un-poetic
Life!” He shouts as he collapses on his desk.
~~~~~The lit candle tips over & the orange flames write
~~~~~The last chapter of his autobiography…
🔥
~~~XXXII~~~
~