Mid-Song



Swallows fall from skies mid-song

The middle air tints of sun light violets

Vast countryside spiralling in eerie whorls of home

Past lives still parade somewhere behind the veils of unknown

Rome is wilderness of punch lines and low bars

Painted broad business suited professionals for sale

Manipulate public and private mockeries of history sold cheap

Flocks of gypsy gulls harp flooded marketplaces of cardboard facade

Grasp for stray beams of notes of worth

Looking at a line too long

Swallows fall from skies mid-song








Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Written on 2026-03-16 at 15:22

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