Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Occasional Poetry - 75. Two Last Sonnets
Crossroad
Uncertain at an intersection stood
a figure clad in median and mode,
unable to decide upon the road,
which chosen, theoretically it could
take such an average person where he would;
yet here upon the journey was he slowed
as all around him traffic ever flowed,
a middle man in search of perfect good.
I pitied him, his head bare to the rain,
for at that crossroad I stopped once before,
and sought, despite discomforts, to remain,
for though I had no dwelling anymore
I feared that every route might end in pain;
so still I wait, observing from my door.
Departure
Pale moonlight streams through windows gaping wide,
enchanted breezes sough to stir the air,
and rippled shadows play on fabrics rare
where sensuously skin on skin may glide,
as floods continue building like the tide
which thunders on the craggy coastline bare,
a danger run by fevered few that dare,
but fatal to the ones who can't decide.
Now once the waters swirled about my knee;
I questioned if I ought to leave the shore
and swim upon the sparkling silver sea
to take such chances others might deplore
in order that my spirit might be free
and drown with you in pleasures evermore.
- 13
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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