poetry

unglum

One far-off day...


I vow proudly:

            One far-off day,
        My deary-dove,
                Sing-sung under sear-of-sun again,
            As even the Bard of Avon began—
      As many since have raced a heart-whim—
            I’ll reach to raise goosebumps on your weathered skin;
                Be unglum, darlin’, ever-daring-when
        You’d thrum of mem’ry and love:
            Hum it then, my lady—

And hum loudly.


—for Kea


Previous Post:
    Poetry: Redshift
        https://windstrewn.com/2020/04/27/redshift/

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