1/4/2019
What no more has twice befallen
On the narrow of the hill
Of the springtime has the pollen
Settled ‘pon my window sill
Near the season’s come to closing
Without a partner next to me
Another poem I’m composing
‘Bout how not freedom sets me free
What no more has twice befallen
On the narrow of the hill
Hear the songbird: hear her calling
Waiting for her mate until
Once the springtime sun does set
Behind the shutting iron gate
Loneliness my soul begets
Solitary is my fate
What no more has twice befallen
On the narrow of the hill
Down I go; reduced to crawling
No one ‘round to hear my shrill
Now the nighttime has arisen
Moonlight praying on my feast
My soul entombed within this prison
Never will I be released
What no more has twice befallen
On the narrow of the hill
The moon doth rise on a night so sullen
The pallor of my body still