October 22nd, 2018

bubamara

(no subject)

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                                                   For then my thoughts (from far where I abide)
                                                     Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee

                                                                                    Sonnet 27


A lover whose lover in silence broods,
too far away to touch,
sent forth a handful of fragile goods —
mostly
vowels and such.

So through they went and over they trod,
and crossed the Atlantic Moat,
for longing is shaped like a fishing rod
with a stubbornly glowing float.