Sentry Box 5th Feast
Obtuse is my thought, an error of links,
a valor of my memory, property to demise,
shelter my cause and my candles' wicks,
this advent of an older dream is not wise..
I recall my equities of long lost causes,
as there is nothing to approach my star,
if only a prayer.. Anxiety to rule my losses,
a cold poem of apostasy, is company to far..
Words, whisper me a tale, she bends above,
a bed of roses white, like purity, dim wail,
she cries my longing stills, trauma of dove,
waits for tears to surmise, in worlds to fail.
It was your face in the wind, a Spring haze,
my dream, it was a dry land, relentless ail,
my eyes opened in a world, outside of blaze,
for five years I waited, and you, death-pale...
A soldier in a bullet's straight adoring waste,
To encounter on April morn, a nefarious mist,
a shot, a shot, my ears died, a Crimson taste,
I smile on my year 5th, of sentry box's feast.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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