Behold that weary light
gleaming without might
craving and hankering
for swarth erranting
but ah,this cold glass cell
became my snug shell
my puissant compact den
glooming my queer mien
but still brave and pliant
an agog vagrant
and 'though de trop confine
I light glass as mine...
YOU ARE READING
Flowers On Shallow Water
Poetry'Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing....'
