Merry Morse
The distant wheel revolves within the night;
its boastful stature begs to be subdued;
though comforting I find, its flashing lights
and its unwavering vivacious mood.
Its garland gleams from its circumference
in patterns that I cannot comprehend.
Perhaps I'm not the one who holds the sense
to understand the ciphers that it sends.
The cargo that it bears must be the key,
and so I board the incandescent gyre,
in hopes that someone down below will see
and apprehend my brisk formatted fire.
Oh turn-oh turn my metal merry morse,
and let your color-coded canvas course!
Copyright © Michael Perriatt | Year Posted 2009
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