It is the quiet loft,
At the edge of the hall
Stocked with discoveries
Of my vast and distant travels
It is the verses of passion
That dwell on the cusp of my tongue
Permitting my heavenly serenade
For the living gem,at foot my of my bed
It is the vessel i've crafted
To conquer these illusions
Relinquish my soul,
and feed her, my transient mortality
Take me
To this well of reveries
Take me
And restore my exuberance
The child within,trusts in you
This is just something i wrote, it isn't much at all. Not nearly enough to "Conquer these illusions". If you liked this poem, then check out my first book. Its available for free here: http://www.lulu.com/shop/william-l-wright-jr/guardian-of-the-inkwell-a-collection-of-ramblings-of-the-poetic-persuasion/ebook/product-20548322.html
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