Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

Be*Upon Your Head A Crown *


Wild was time when racing by
stars could count the years
spinning earth into the yawn
nearing morning dawn.
Seconds long minute found
the waiting of the hand
wanning such trembling thus
the hour did draw near.
Past has flown to present now
comming of the King.

Submitted: Monday, December 08, 2008
Edited: Thursday, December 11, 2008

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