The Past, Unburied Poem by james watkin

The Past, Unburied



By what dark, loamy corner up-mounds
For some gold splendour's grave-plot
Lies a rake, forgot.
Heart's own place, for the past, unburied!
Aspen-figured, yet shadowing
Whose dreams were fanned in.

Sunday, March 24, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: memory
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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