For a poet

She wrote of “when”

its season, early off the vine
i drank her words in their prime
read it twice it left its mark
read it thrice to spark my thirst
i poured a glass for friends to share
they took it in upon my writers dare
she wrote a poem true in tale
that we all grew sick of other poets ale
so oft we come to read her lines
and suckle sweetly off her wine..

For a poet

bellerjeau

Easton, United States

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Artwork Comments

  • clone42
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  • bellerjeau
  • bellerjeau
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  • bellerjeau
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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