Monday, 12 July 2021

My chronic chills

 What to think of her and of him?
Her amusing ideal always angelic to her creed.
I wished an apologetic zeal before her dignity.
Was I too late, mourning my cowardice;
What would it have took to walk up the clouds 
And enlist in cupid's artful elegance.
A belated regard, my honour was always in disguise.
Ah, a prayer here and a prayer there, 
The audacity, to camp in her civic cheer.
O love to thee, my everlasting stream
May I drink away my chronic chills.

K.Oni

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