Autumn Pier Poem by Teresa Pelka

At autumn pier, there we were,
Almost all solemn, grave.
Our mercies turned the old stone;
A bit deaf to unknown tongue,
Our souls told the verses.

Cheers Michelangelo, we haven't arrived yet;
Blessed are that trysten in hym, Wycliffe says.

"All gods ate and drank", we spoke;
"Abishaq held Adonijah guiltless warm;
Guilt must have had a way to pray own stead,
And swans got some of the blame ―
Whereby the Aeolian head".

Cheers Michelangelo, we're not coming yet;
Blessed are that trysten in hym, Wycliffe says.