The One That Never Comes

Posted: June 2, 2016 in Uncategorized
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Photo Credit: Free Internet Search

The sun would soon be tired
When her fabrics bleach ecru
The fading feather fabrics of her fainted follicles
She would be weary, when the rain comes
To bath her with mockery dews of insipidity springs
Lumps of her throat wouldn’t dissolve, not one
Chance, may comfort her dying desire and hope
Tell her I shall join her, on the staunch faith seat
Waiting for the one, that never comes

The Archer spoke to me of blossom-ness
His surplice white was celestial, of high regards and sacredness
My shadow yet would not go, no, after the twilight play
The Archer was malignant, his black blood spoke it
Tell him, his stabs on my Shadow hurts but yet bearable
Of him, of his Machiavellian hues, I remain stoic
On this post I yet remain, building my brows of grey and yellow
Waiting for the one, that never comes

They say, patience is a virtue that doesn’t fail
When my nostrils smelt its different shades, they scared me
Its shade are ambivalent, seeking which to build on
Brimstone would rain tomorrow when the sun sleep
And royalty would be jested when the purples slumber
If time would yet spare us, we shall yet be staunch
Waiting for the one, that never comes

So I will sit, and be sober, and merry and be pensive
The fogs and the snows of the North, I shall consult
They will please my heart and they, me will melt
The one that never comes would come, serendipity
And the Sun, and the Archer,and Me shall be patient
More, perhaps Patience would smile of it fairest countenance
Yet, building optimism, waiting for the one that never comes

© -2016- AdamsMurphy®

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