Argent Island
As boney fingers of branches clasp the waning sky
I look forward ever onward and see her as she cries.
Helpless to damn her fluid streams
And alas even more helpless to make reality even her wildest dreams.
The only thing I have to offer within my grasp
Is this silvery orb with which now I clasp.
For I am just a rusted wreck of a boat beating on back
To an island of brilliance that beams on in the black.
A sunken citadel held within oceans vast and deep.
Pour little pearlescent angel; you do not weep.
You are my whole world, my existence which I adore,
And for you I will cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!
For let us slip the slithery bonds of earth and touch the face of god
And leave footprints in the golden sands of time's esplanade.
For I am just a rusted wreck of a boat beating on back
To you, an island of brilliance that beams on in the black.
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: