xx. Ode To Time (Amore de Tempora)

Splattere the

clouds, o’er

yonder nigh’

sky

 

Shattered the

sounds, beating

drums on high

 

Brought to

His knees.

shut lips

sewn

Thrown away,

keys

 

His throne

caint be filled,

by their more

mortal

swill

 

To the trims,

Up to thine

lips and eyes

 

Shall beauty

ne’er best lost

to Time

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