Writing Straight with Crooked Lines
Would that my poet's heart could fly,
but an artist's anchor is his eye.
I still see the magic in mere flesh,
so a humble fate is mine...
Your form shall be revered, my dear;
I pray you never need to fear,
the passions flowing deep within me
as we struggle down the line...
From fruits of base attraction,
sweetest sensual transaction-
God may grant us gifts
beyond what we can define...
Let's raise a clutch of saints, my love,
a brood of little lambs, my dove,
offspring who will far surpass us
as they evolve the design.
3 June 2024
Copyright © J. I. Thomas F. | Year Posted 2024
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