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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Experience · #759261
The country boy and his mistress.
As Icarus flew, too close to the source,
Off course I came to the hearth of your heart;
The flight and the failing of care’s winged force
Imbued in the need to lose Youth’s part.
To shadows the unlocked land is bleeding,
The countryside darkening all around.
Seagulls in separate fields are feeding.
With you, the farmers are browning the ground.
Feathers of trying still flatter the sky -
Am I tried yet and tamely convicted
Or, cradled on leaves with a smoking sigh,
Do I go with the last green evicted?

If memory ever recalls this year
Know nothing from kisses came, but a tear
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