NOIR, THE PRIMROSE

LOVELY

RENEE VERONA

Within the moon we sat, a lofty raven and the spotted dove, driven meticulously through a broken, shifting zenith
Where our feathers bloomed bioluminescent-ly setting aglow the silver, sighing sands, and the forsaken, fragile stardust
A must we galavant as our beaks drown dearly beneath the brim of a soul reaving zinfandel, hued thusly thy everberry
Marked thereof water lilies whispering about those dragonflies that waltz remarkably around their Victorian crown
Elated art we masquerading amidst the sunbeams edging this horizon, kissing prolifically, suddenly from a noble dawn

Vagary, unto thee indigo sky we walked dressed in a fabric, which hunts deeply an astronomical star-studded nebuli
Transit in ultra-violet bejeweled much like the primrose… one courting a celestial Virgo embalmed of rosemary

…Mother Mary…

A taste belonging to a sweet pinot noir rests easily upon her lips, as I found a welcoming bless inebriated by the virgin Primitivo
Ergo, the…

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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