Poetry

Ancient Rhyme

I feel old, like an ancient civilization

rich with an intricate and balanced beauty

I feel embroidered like the blanketed bed of a king

Open for his new bride

I feel like a lantern

made of clay

lit on the inside

but thick and heavy on the out

I think I will dream awhile

in this stone fortress

that has no outside doors

meanwhile I stand upon the ramparts

waiting for an angel, flying

to drop a gift at my feet

It is a beautiful dream

I feel like an ancient rhyme

a long journeyed tale to be told

but only in a whisper

in an echoing cavern

of an arching rotunda.

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