1 min
Image of Fall 2020
Image of Poetry
He came from out behind the shadows dark,
Of mysteries full I did not presume.
And as he spoke I watched his eyes’ bright spark,
But knew that deep within he held his gloom.
Gradually I broke through, but I assume
Nill. If we proceed, we cannot return.
If we advance then, I fear, it could bloom.
But should it fail, we both will feel the burn.
‘Spite it all, there’s no one else whom I yearn.
I will solve these mysteries that I see;
Of his life and history I will learn,
And, I plea, that he desires to know me.
I pray we’re not too swift, for as I hear
“Bona fortuna!” I hope it’s sincere.

A few words for the author? Comment below. 0 comments

Take a look at our advice on commenting here

To post comments, please