Wednesday, 20 April 2016

The Queen of Spurs

Day Twenty

One soundless night you were the midnight-chaser,
A spark-lighter; gardener of thoughts.
From zip you became many things,
Heart-hider. Beat-mover. Verse-walker.
And then you wouldn't stop being.
From a rare nonsense-peddler,
to highbinder in tales. Grin-giver,
and bestower of strange monikers.
The gone-wrong chocolate-ducker.
I forgive you, my midnight-chaser.

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