When
written by: Stuart M. Klimek
When an angel’s faded feather falls where rainbows arc a winter’s sky
Time shall halo the shadowed halls and drink an olden ocean dry.
There Possibility blooms in velvet petals on ivy vines of prickly thorn
As night dost thresh its dulcet nettles ‘ere the harvest of a misty morn.
And no man shall sniff the Never Rose nor dine upon the ambrosian dish
Whilst dreams surcease their fiery throes over embers of an empty wish
Yet, in hope galore, on stony peaks where wisdom climbs heaven’s bough
An icy chill in parlance speaks to fate forgotten of here and now.
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