Touch it: it won't shrink like an eyeball,
This egg-shaped bailiwick, clear as a tear.
Here's yesterday, last year ---
Palm-spear and lily distinct as flora in the vast
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Beauty's pain gives her name, her light in flame, her death is fame.
Great imagery. I lover the last stanza - especially the line 'The future is a grey seagull'. Reminds me of a seagul I saw in Brighton on one dull rainy day.
this poem is great but I think it needs more of a big idea and a theme
Amazing writing