Twelve Hours To London, But Backwards It's Better
the clouds crowd far beneath my feet;
but i—i’m distant! i wish she could see
the lands stretched free beside my wings;
better yet, i wish
she could stay and see me.
twelve hours to london and ten to parís,
but i—i’m reversing! back home where i'm free!
the skies become my heart’s soft, wisping-sigh dream:
by flashlight, I add
an eighteen, a three
poem by Antoine Lavoisier
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Stuff
The realization has just fallen:
Her birthday card to me has been
Hidden on my desk-that
Cluttered mess of books and stuff (count: I) -
And since last August I forgot
That it was there.
[Over time, I oft overlook the opus words that
Make life more marvelous, less mundane.]
Have I been too worried with myself? Does she mind
My mind still figuring, still learning stuff (count: II) ?
The craft card on my desktop counter
Sits still. It is opened, words re-read.
And 'til next August,
There it rests.
As always,
Every word is a delight.
poem by Antoine Lavoisier
Added by Poetry Lover
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