I know not the route

have scant memory

of my journey there,

‘summerdawn’

a beauteous place

twixt three am and

neverwhere,

 

old poets walk its Elysian Fields

a Brigadoon of silver words,

transient morsels briefly bloom

and are plucked to feed

one’s hungry soul, the price,

melancholia in an empty

room

 

© Graham R Sherwood 06/25