Thursday, April 25, 2024

My Kind - A Poem by Moe



his silent eyes 

of springtime breeze

sing solemn sighs

of souls at ease


the sighs of one

whose fluttered heart 

has blessed his run

inspiring art


through flame of eyes

this molten beats

of hunger cries

and kingly feats


but she'd know not

he speaks of her

as time forgot

to set their stir


so here he'll wait

to set the stage

though some come late

his kind don't age


~moses apollo 

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