With Pen In Hand

Fantastic poetry

Max Meunier

Pensively, with pen in hand
I seek to speak this heart’s demand
In verses vetting no avail
Dispersed through endless paper trails
The flames of amorous subdue
Proclaimed in clamor since imbrued
In rumination brewing long
From luminescent springtide song
Frustrations thrust upon this mind
Soon turn to dust all in due time
As lost laments gather to die
‘Til one day come a weather eye
In search of words to mend the wound
Unearths the tome that tends this tomb
These tales eternal then retold
In vales of vernal life once known
For all things past must yet return
As falling glass from stardust spurned

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