While I Climbed, It Creeped

The blanks that bore the bar
Over the letters that sought a seat
Yonder on the feather field
The haunt lights a hint I can’t seethe
Fall is the embrace I brave and breathe

Atop the hill, where the cold hisses
The rattled praise mockery
And driven drivel till snow kisses
And I hold on to bruises
Where Shade warps a sallow niche

Unless the fair wolf the wound
It’s the feast of boredom, of least to-do
Umpteened warning propose an arousal
An excess grant greeds and gallows
All the while, the pond shallows

The bested remain a link weak
The wheeze follows a ripe-trip ripped-reaped
Too old are burrows to bury the weed
Where I claim my envy, I seek
I mead a marrow meant to seed

The barrow barons the baked beat
The tarried tavern the naked heat
To take it home, to sorrow the welled
The empty quarters call for help
While they came at end, they did came at an end

© Prateek Joshi and WordPress, 2017-2018

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