I Saw Our Final Peek

Kenneth, loves satire and writings to spotlight others, but he also has an "addiction" so to speak, to dramatic and abstract/prose poetry.

Her gaze wandered in time deposed

She grumbled not a word.

It’s now that I only see her close.

Just a butterfly, a sigh not heard.

Dressed in satin and shine

With seamstress’ thread and tattered thread.

Oh, for her love that I once called mine.

But how do wave at an angel’s death?

I hear the small rumble of *his black days

And the brook is far from heart as it lays.

Laying silent, winking at her several ways

Across the sea, found for me, a soul for a night and a day.

*death

Writer's summary – facing someone, although waded

a heart, and a soul stand in one final glance—but mind

you, I am just the writer. Whom do look to?

--Kenneth