pages lead me to believe
something hand-woven and true
has been reborn, where there was
only self-pleasure and doubt
about the craftsmanship; But look
there is that same backward glance appeased
in some daft artisan's assertion
He wins, his witty embellishment
a thoughtful deception; This heart's december
spread out, even little smudges
dot the surface of best laid pains.
No comments:
Post a Comment