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by Christopher John Horne
Gazing through the mystic haze, I stop to check the
Of kings and paupers, days of play, yet cannot spy on you,
Darkness clouds, and swirls around, to temper my mind’s eye
I incant the chant of ancient mage to flash across the sky.
Winds prance and dance with circumstance, upon the crystal
To disclose a show of soft sweet glow within my fervent call,
I could not see, initially, this scene was not for me to claim
For Angels fly, in Gods blue sky, above the arcane plane.
You have a certain way with words, you use them very
To enchant me, and surprise me, as you cast your poet’s
I never know, which way they’ll go, or where they’ll lead
But I know these rhyming journeys end, with me alongside you.
So I listen to your poetry, and let you weave your dreams,
With sweet words you twill in stardust, and embroider with
Your rhymes have taken aim, and most surely hit their mark,
For they’ve found their way across the sea, and deftly
claimed my heart.