Nights are restless,
Solitude is meaningless.
What stirs mine mind?
Remains the mystery untouched.
Thoughts are tangled,
With thy bearing of reserve.
Way thou judge mine heart,
Makes of me the errant.
Confusions filling mine burrow,
Yet stoicism cradles me.
Leading Odyssey with temperance,
Into mine evermore breath.
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Author:
The Velvet (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 15th, 2025 04:06
- Comment from author about the poem: Minstrel, confused with "What is love?" as always...
- Category: Love
- Views: 1
Offline)
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