Weary Of Blowing Its Lament Poem by james watkin

Weary Of Blowing Its Lament



Weary of blowing its lament
On its Winter horn
Is the night. And wearier
With ear, ice-fluted
Gust on gust, unfound once again
His lorn self. One star
Guided home by.Of which deadness
Is that saluted!

Thursday, May 27, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: night,walking,drunk
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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