I sing your praises
On a flattened tongue
Without grace or tact
Or grandeur. Not with the greatest
Lines from the sweetest lips
Could your beauty find
A tune to fit. And mine
Are rough, raucous, reaching
Like eyes in a starless night.
Every lyric is longing,
Every stanza straining
In light of your fair face. My words
Are weak and wasted
On a woman,
With whom no summer’s day
Can contend. But still I sing
My tone deaf tune, for silence
Is the greatest evil.
He Who Wanders 
Amazing work! You are so talented. How you are able to create such imaginative poetry with sharp imagery is beyond me.
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Wow ! You have such a way with words. Please don’t ever stop writing. Always make time for things you love. Proud!
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