Poetry for Strangers: Fidelity

autumn comes
seven stone giants carry the umber sky

the princess questions the counsel of the old rhetor

come ye faithful
come to the pub for a pint of scrub brew

we live in senseless times
fortinbras gathers his army at the border

an avalanche has closed the eastern pass

there is no magic anymore
the witchs rooster has died

soon the land will be overcome with marauders
our assumptions must be turned over
one by one
and inspected like fruit in a bowl
looking for the damaged and rotten

the weaver turns to the joiner and says
i love you and will all my days
tie this thread around our clasped hands

fidelity to the cure
a call to the ochre clouds
the dirge tumbles down the stone balustrade
the river of memory is cold
we are what we adore

For more, go to Poetry for Strangers


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