Precious Meddles

This is the last of a past that I cast

In the impure, and dusty-born ores

That shone once in mountains I climbed in a vast

Sprawling valley that called me to bore

And oh but the tools

And knick-knacky knockers

And jewel-set garlands I fashioned

Born from the shores of aglorian moors

Torn from the pages of passion

But tears ever salted

And cracks ever faulted

And soon in my trusty old vault

Lay tools for fools

And knockers for talkers

Crusted and rusty and dulled

And this is the last of a past that I cast

And amassed in a dastardly fashion

Good as it was

Torn out because

It's time for a new page of passion

Reviews

[angelite]

I love all your poems, but this one especially, it is so flowy. You have a kind of enlightened type of writing. It is so refreshing!

[Crispy]

That's likely the single kindest thing anyone's said of my work. Thank you sincerely~*