Gazing At Him
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I must have watched him mildly wandering
Along a balmy pond, his locks grown wild,
With cheeks a hectic flush, bolder than Spring,
As if on him amber twigs had compiled...
I gaze at a form bending-- tall and brown
Solemn those eyes like dewdrops weeping dim--
He laid a brightened wreath and cast them down;
The north-wind on a face looking quite grim
Under a young maple tree of furled leaves
Perhaps, he mourns about love on dry sheaves.
Constance La France's Contest
HM's and NA's October 2020 Poetry
Posted 11/2/2020
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From Completely Your Choice (25) Contest
Written 10/12/ 2020 Judged 10/13/2020
Quatrain and Couple Form-- HM
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2020
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