6 Ik
White Rhythmic Wind
Poetess I call myself
As Lines I rhyme
Fine Phrases do I form –
My Thoughts evolve
In parcèd Time
As Rhythms sweet are born –
If I dare
Disclose to you
A rare or radiant Verse –
You see the Light
In darkest Night –
The lifting of a Curse.
©Kleomichele Leeds
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