In the ether of Gibran,
A dead princess – her pavane,
By single flame of citron,
Darkness past the darker lawn,
Sixty-four degrees to dawn,
Endless thoughts float on and on
Through rare realms, I’ll see anon.

Copyright © 2013 Shainbird. All rights reserved.


About Shainbird

"A lonely craftsman putting one word after another."
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Atmosphere

  1. Cubby says:

    This certainly does create an eerie and somewhat mystical atmosphere. Excellent poem! 🙂

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