Tale of a veiled future. (a poem)


sitting by the shore, head bowed low
linings on the forehead, and a visaged glow…
a traveller by day, a traveller by night
in the scabbard of patience, with a sword’s might…
with a man gone, another will come
on night’s end, bloom will a sun…

as I sit, gathering my remains
a head bowed low, a head held high
linings on the forehead, heart in hand
Life was an orchard, or a mire of sand!
~~~

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