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.
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?
© 2019 Kenneth Avery