What quaff is this?
Must I still stand?
I’m weary, now,
Leave me alone.
Evermore must I
Weary? Raven flew,
Left alone. Now,
What knock is this?
There roads a road
Clocked with trees,
The path seems weary,
Apple blossom seen…
When taxing weary,
Where to go? Sitting
Leary, Rayvn flown,
Seems so dreary,
To me, alone.
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 1/25/10
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You play with and expound the motif of '...Weary' beautifully and more than cleverly - with real impact.
John