Wednesday, December 25, 2019

Poetic reimaginings 1

Dear Mr. Yeats,

There is no turning, or widening gyre,
All the falcons hear the falconer ,
Things have been set in time and space,
And yet the center cannot hold...

#deewrites
#poetry

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Mayfly.

Sun-kissed nights,  run wild and sure mornings, shrouded in grey walk slow,  noons burn high, and so do the hearts. like dawns I linger, lik...