Valley Of Outcasts, Amorous City's Poem by james watkin

Valley Of Outcasts, Amorous City's



Wooed of a night-fog.
Numbly, serenely
Yielded to. Who's embrace is
Balm, to one sulky.

I'm that tranced victim
Of a lustful hour!
But no damned soul! Who, roaming
A wakeful dream-space
Come by, faceless, the one face
World-woes devour.

Thursday, November 10, 2022
Topic(s) of this poem: fog
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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