At intervals he sighs, raises brow in anticipation;
a habitual gesture,
a foible, a trait disagreeable
for most
but captivating
to the Poet in meβ€”
deep-set, his eyes speak in sonnets
while outside
bulrushes become bare,
tell me,
is this in any way, fair?

 

 

 

 

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Posted for Quadrille #140: Let’s go to the Fair @dVerse Poets Pub