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Rated: E · Poetry · Friendship · #2199329
... mortality's truth
cunning, resilient and bold
too swift to catch, too fast to behold
freeze this intoxicating bird in her place
father-time please, a moment to sketch...
open a window with veiled velvet upon her sill
a royal and proper perch for feats yet to be faced
like a black-widow, weaving her web, grace and skill
father-time please... if you really don't mind
make this pencil last, I'll not wish to waste
one single breath to sharpen or grind
nor desire to portray in such haste
let me trace, refine and redefine
by your leave father.... in time
there's more here than is clear
more than feathers in the wind
more than a tilted look from within
more than the hidden curve of her ear
more than the shine of her sharpened beak
so bleak is my windswept fear.. of you father-time!
… less my hand captures not, her cheekbone's ridgeline.
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