#WritcoPoemPrompt61

A sky Dawn and a clean call from love.
Yet, timid and quavering, I gripped the cracking shell of day.
To my listening left, sings she as would àngels above.
Yet, timid and quavering, I got not the rhythm of love’s play.

Don’t love me. My love is love and her evil love.
As a baby feels in the cot, her offer is as much comfort
Yet, afraid and cowardly, I gripped a train on her rails
As though, thorns and locusts, her offer brings forth.
As deep and clear as her horn, so is my love; yet fails.
Don’t love me. My love is love and her evil discomfort.

As a farmer feels in the face of drought,
So will she that measures upon me a lover’s yard. Behold! This is a love’s concoction that a she once brought.
It’s not my flaw. Life and love are players of card.

‘Bomi Adamson