The Striker
¶ 1
Leave a comment on verse 1 0
Eyes cool as icicles
Shining gold primed boots
A nod to the terrace
And then
As the moon climbs
Beyond the rain of clouds
The striker heaven bound
With quizzical limbs
Hunts for goals
In the swan silent
Stealth of dreams.
Comments
0 Comments on the whole Poem
Create an account to leave a comment on the whole Poem
0 Comments on verse 1
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 1