18.4.2024
The Imagination tree I loved and knew Bloomed in great cascades by the pool It was a truly sacred thing to view And helped my burning body to cool. There are trees I hold in memory's cells That call to me in subtle rhythmic strains Some like the tinkling sound of little bells And others call me down the ancient lanes Where priceless beauty holds us in repose And love a wondrous movement sweetly calls Anointing us with fragrance of the rose In ancient times remembered in those halls Where my knights met to manifest the light Before the onset of the darkest night.
Poems 2024 (691)
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