Fairer than all the rest which there appeare
Though all their beauties joynd together were;
How then can mortal tongue hope to expresse
The image of such endlesse perfectnesse?

Faire is the Heaven by Edmund Spenser

Give me time
and I will give a song,

I suppose it’s in my blood
and courses through me.
with rhythmic flow.

I see harmony,
intercalating with the air
I breathe.

And as modulations blossom
between the lilac and lavender,
and subtle melodies meander,

I recall music,
when the smooth petals of light
silhouette above her symphony.

What essential language calls a dream.

April was National Poetry Writing Month, where participants wrote a draft poem a day. I completed the entire month (for the first time in 4 tries). It was fun, and I ended up with some nice bits and pieces to work with. This one is actually the combination of two different drafts from NaPo, along with some revision.

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