Thursday, July 5, 2007


My master slumbers in light of day
His armour has no chink
Light peers in through his window
Yet he does not stir
Upon his chest rests a bouquet
Much like the kind he brings
To his lady of fair
His pure white stallion
Impatiently awaiting
Yet his bridle is not upon him
As the sun breaches the sky
I wonder why he does not rise
Even the mice are not lurking
I have this feeling like when it rains
Of eternal loss in thunder's pains

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

No comments: