The Sanctuary

Ground of green.
Creek of pristine.
Mounds and mounds in extremes.
Some dragonflies seduce the queen.

The woods are mellow.
Countless flowers in yellow.
There’s a frenzied sound like a violoncello.
Clouds formed the face of Longfellow.

Rhythm of madness is forgotten.
Towards West confines the upland cotton.
Vines of grapes are unrotten.
Perfection is begotten.




About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
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