The Nightingale and the Thief.A Poem by Isaac Canton
Now I wake up to the sound of my own voice, So I’m washed and clothed without a choice. Now I wake up to the sound of my own voice, So I’m washed and clothed without a choice. You were a nightingale, I was a thief, I could not catch you, You were too quick on your feet. Weightless, you soared away, Into the early day, I was hopeless as you crept out of sight. Into the cold and the clear and the bright. © 2013 Isaac Canton |
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Added on January 29, 2013 Last Updated on January 29, 2013 Tags: Poetry, Nightingale, verse. AuthorIsaac CantonUnited KingdomAboutPoet from Devonshire, England. Inspired by the freedom of the Romantics. Love Keats, Clare and Byron, Wilde and Poe. more..Writing
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