Burning Nightly

The cool Shadow

beneath your wing,

where I wallow

each time you Sing.

But, Sing you should,

so clear and loud.

She Soars. Behold,

Her Singing proud.

Burning brightly,

you Precious thing,

burning Nightly;

Phoenix-Being.

That Shaded place,

my hiding Hole,

scorching embrace.

I didn’t know.

I’m not your brood,

nor egg you laid,

I’m not your truth,

but I’m afraid.

Your Heat, it Soothed,

unlike Old Star.

You, Phoenix Renewed,

I, dried and charred.

© CGT, 2017.

Blogging Poetry

Obol View All →

Obol is a poet and an infrequent writer of prose.

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