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Saturday, November 11, 2017

Free Verse Scribbles : Cartographer's Dreams

'Nightfall on the Thames' by John Atkinson Grimshaw, 1880
(Photograph Source)

Night, like a whisper 
Slips down the hair 
To the curve of the bosom 
To the knees 
And the path below 
That grows out into foliage 
And antique caves 
As old as time. 

The creak of a door 
Or the gravitating musings 
Of the solidarity 
Of footsteps in the dark 
The clamour of dishes 
The unsaid words 
Turn up like swings in the hold 
Of a lovely summer breeze 

Another winter is crawling below 
The doorsteps of a decade 
Another call is hanging low 
In the gardens of the shore 
Where the earnest winds 
Weave wallpapers in rain 
And sadistically cross each other's path

A cosmic show grows old
Galactically - as in lover's
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