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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Wednesday, 21 January 2015

A love faux

I am but a harbinger,
for in this new age,
love did bring her
to script it's arched wings
that give flight to most.

I tower watch,
as her sea of code,
flows over the book,
that lands our community-
she is the bell-ringer of love.

and I, her harbinger.

"Tan! Tan,"
she wrought,
cavalry she brought,
armoured like Thor,
white hair like a horse,
elegant and chiselled by thought.

Onto his horse he whisked her,
upon which she sat like a drifter.
None they did need,
ayeh, together they did plant seed,
out which sprouted love.

I cannot paint as she,
I am but a tulip, she; a peony,
bringing beauty,
to this art of love
that I script in faux.

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