Still Light
With the winter storm of your eyes
As the skies fill, tombs of snow
An ancient chant remains unheard
With words intoning what is not
Exchanging meanings with the light
Still, in place of wasted motions
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers

Read 216 times
Written on 2025-01-15 at 02:18




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![]() by Chaucer Whethers ![]() Latest textsDark GlassesLike Lamps Without Under Brush Night Blinds Remory Lane My favoritesRumblingYou Long Legged Lady Masterpiece |

