There has not been a love as strong as mine.
For as the pillow'd sands caress the shores
In billow'd hands of pearly white, she waits
Atop my heart, my slopes and shoals so high
That creatures of the wind avoid him vastly;
She scales with ancient claws in strides of art.
To reach the crippling of the peak is no
Small feat, 'tis not a fool's arrangement, or
Even a King's adept approach. 'Tis singular.
No harder task was ever placed, and yet
Where thousands fall, she glides barefooted up
As if my cliffs were beds of brush which lay
So far below. She is my equal love.

Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 607 times
Written on 2009-07-26 at 07:05

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Remarkable poem Michael. Excellent!!

well I am astounded to say the least. Thanks for posting.