Sunday, May 15, 2016

How Doth The Poem?





Midnight’s star-struck metronome
Breeds the hunger for a poem
Morning pours in sun-gold brew
To time's poem-avenue
Noon, swoons soft slurs to her cheek
Muse flirts, playing hide-and-seek
Dusk melts poems, shadow-blurred
Mind-ink musters thought to word
Dark night’s star-sparked metronome
Haunts the hunter of a poem

© Janet Martin

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