Golden Days
In the golden heart of Summer
Winter trees were burning eyes of ice
Always open to
Nothing else will do,
In walls of leaves castles slumber
Bumble bees in jackets buttoned twice
As nice icicles blue
Evening shadows through,
With wanting armless ghosts paraded
Wearing hollow smiles on collars clear
As water sunless sky brocaded
Near tomorrow files another year,
Nothing else will do
Always open to,
Winter trees were burning eyes of ice
In the golden heart of Summer.
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 508 times
Written on 2017-07-16 at 23:06
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