Sheffield knife
On equinox coastal unguarded brims,
forever far spent beacon's life,
small imperfection, a riddance still,
moon-flash on a Sheffield knife.
I hear his voices in this mauve dawn,
a resolution of his life's altruism,
the images he left before gone,
of odd Styx rife adventism..
One instant of hypothesis his glance,
a tragic wilt, distance of stare,
it was a never equation to solve,
a wine's spill, dim marquee of despair.
I 'll go away from that coastal of Aden,
assuming earth will be mine,
Sunday's sweet, mane of a maiden's mist
and a recall of a wilted sign..
An image of a kid in Sundays feasts,
with my voice of our friendship's skies,
of those that escaped in high mists,
sad advent will be, our shipmate's eyes.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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