Jonathan ROBIN (22 September / London)
Before: eyes wore sack cloth of black,
turned back from fair temptations' surge,
recoiled, pain wracked, from fate's attack,
saw splurge urge drowned by starcrossed scourge.
Hope unexpected then saw light,
delight which soared beyond all ken
of mice and men, displacing night
then opened door to joy again.
When transformation was complete,
from chrysalid slipped butterfly
antennae test, taste, haste to greet
bolt which bolts leaden could defy.
One moment lost, the next enthralled,
true metamorphosis 'tis called.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Illumination by Jonathan ROBIN )
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