the poetical firefly to
muse-butterfly of poesy
You must excuse me. You dear dreamer!
I have overly felt my dreamery about Golden Fleece.
I built my small paradise without any other ontological beings.
I based the dreamiest sempiternity on tenderness of my wings.
Thus. I painted my wings in color of an ambrosia.
Withal: I liked dew of dawns for the sake of elves.
I loved too much the wizardry of mayhap meek Erlkings.
I had to read many fairy tales of the Winter Queen.
I have enchanted your night rainbow.
I have become a magician of dawn.
I loved the Morning Starlet -- the propitious Venus.
I collected all shooting stars after a dreamier night.
Excuse me. My dear butterfly
fulfilled in same afterglow
and bewitched by lights of moonlit and
Let us dream over night!
Unto an epiphany of first
angels of red sky in
The Piker Press moderates all comments.
Click here for the commenting policy.