Ghost Of The Dead Solitary Poem by james watkin

Ghost Of The Dead Solitary



Love's come; Life's enricher; sprinkling,
Showering compliments as
Petals before him, perfume the breeze
With a willingness to please.

Too late! Too late! For to smother,
To make insensible to
This moaned reminder, heart's ways on down
Trackless, traceless, chill-blown.

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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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