how I came to her

I always felt unworthy in those halls.

The staid sitting down to conjure.

The slavish dedication to forms.

The harsh fingers screeching across the chalkboard.

I’ve come here now to see,

for she must kiss too my eyes

and privy me beyond 

the blue hills of knowing. 

Published by Tonyyy

twitter.com/sirmorose tumblr.com/sirmorose instagram.com/sir.morose

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