Friday, 17 April 2015

A Smuggler To The Last.

A poem a day for a month, it's a nice thought.

Youthful Traveller.

firm in winter's bosom clasped
gazing back along a path
a path I never can retrace
wondering,  when summer's blaze
cooled to autumn's seductive charm,
when autumn ran to winter's chill?
I saw no signpost mark the borders
no checkpoint with the list
bidding me declare.
So the sea of life I duly sailed
a smuggler to the last,
contraband I carry in my heart,
the joy of spring
mid winter's icy blast.

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