A Lonesome lark I sing to you,
Ancient hymns that lilt so true,
of sacred fire, boneless char,
Keep me warm until you tire.
I serve on dreary days, on moon-fled nights,
Yet,I hope for no aching respite.
For no scent, veiled and feathered as yours,
Sinks my soul to our twiggy nest of kindled clouds.
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Author:
Kiri Noa (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 18th, 2026 13:58
- Comment from author about the poem: On my undeniable longing for her
- Category: Love
- Views: 15
Offline)
Comments1
This speaks of a sunset or sunrise be it beginning or end we all look to the sun lark or cloud of nest.
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