6 Ik
White Rhythmic Wind
Poetess
I call myself –
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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