Do your tiny hands
Reveal freeflying thoughts,
Or better, are you intrigued
By the stumbling block dividing naughts?
It s not possible to conceal
An admiration impossibly,
That lore is catlike in ferocity.
Doe-eyed, implacable, studious,
Said being is beautiful of mind;
Milton's honesty, old, then dutiful,
No brokenness can be so kind.
Quaked, then towered, forsaking
Friendship's throne for tears,
A humble dosser is partaking
Of an institution asymbolic of the years.
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Comments about this poem (A Question by Stan Petrovich )
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