Hurry To Him, Concubines
Burnished pheasant,
Repulsed by noon's bright sunshine,
Rasping brazenly,
Calls the plump hens to his side...
Hurry to him, concubines.
Copyright © John Fleming | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment