deepundergroundpoetry.com
Solitude
There is a solitary berry
On a fine vine
Of solitude - Infused
Time,
Making for
The finest of wines
Partaken particularly
In times
To be defined
By
The partaker
That has partaken:
Well then,
Make mine
A mixture
Of
Lament – Adjacent
To jubilant,
A stellar, North Star
Fixture -
To find my way
On any given
Day;
Make that
Night.
Make mine in a
Texture
Of
Allure,
A frequency – Frequent,
That
Plays in rays,
Raised
In a womb of aplomb
Of a fine
Instrument.
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