A Form Poem by welkin siskin
A Form
The days of beauteous forms have fallen on me
which the youth could not culminate;
And what matters it be
The time become fortunate yet
To usher the path of joy.
The shadows of life have gone
And the beautiful days are on the rise
For to the time's game I have shunned
The entirety of mine: life, vigor and energy.
@ Welkin Siskin
Wednesday, February 6, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: light
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5/2/2024 11:48:24 AM # 1.0.0.1119
