deepundergroundpoetry.com

Ms. Land A She

I would                          
Thoroughly                          
                         
Things be, which                        
For anyone could be                   
                         
Or are            
For Astártē                    
                         
Who will be                  
A Woman                
                         
O Beautiful dew                        
I'm calling you                        
                         
Refined, much like                          
‘My hand, My dear’                        
                         
Breathless I come here                        
I am a frog                          
                         
And next day                        
She’s talking                          
                         
‘Go’                        
'You're moving!’                        
                         
As she tells me                   
Recommends me                        
                         
To Faith                      
So I Will
Written by Write-On
Published | Edited 29th Jan 2024
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