Wordsworth’s vale
As morning sun kissed glistening frost;
The valley sung a sweet melody .
A refrain to an acquaintance lost;
And bid that I walk hushed and lightly.
It was as a child we had last met;
And she sung her song, lest we forget.
.
The babbling brook played its percussion;
Whilst willows tears fell in tympani droplets.
Amid the leaves of woodwind section,
A cello breeze danced to bows bequests.
A blackbird in soprano voice sung.
All conducted by the rising sun.
.
It was with trepidation that I crossed,
Into that vales’ symphonic sound.
Fearing that my staccato might embossed,
Discord to that orchestral ground.
But my soles and soul played their part,
On whispered grass and with singing heart
.
Still, in my heart; our fond farewell,
A lovers’ sonnet, not requiem.
And in my sleep, my thought compel,
To wander as in Wordsworth’s pen.
To dream amidst a languid cloud,
Unto my vale in frosted shroud.
By Dibs
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