tagNon-Erotic PoetryThorns of the Clone

Thorns of the Clone


Shifting in the hourglass
of internal canting,
stained-glass breaks solitude
with moonbeams of blue.

A winter of secrets bury
vaporous voices prompting
a baneful beast.

In reverence,
to a mummers shrine
becomes another happy medium
to appease tines
without conscience.

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bybluerains© 5 comments/ 2594 views/ 0 favorites

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