Dynasty Ends
 

 Adorn is brokered, a die miscast
 so far as matter's in psalters passed.
 Silk lining hosts haunt Askfor moors
 which waiter taunts in petit fours
 and serves a volley half way there
 presents a future to the past
 to seek your painful marriage of glass
 hold a troll enfold on a knoll of grass

 The president enlaureate is
 hung up on the ropes of maiden hair
 as the sickness of the hammer
 the sickle and the scythe for
 ever in my words, in my thoughts
 Death spared you your journey's best
 to keep the old, to heaven with the rest 
 in a tumbling plunge from life incomplete.
 Did you smile your child to greet?
 
 


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(C) Copyright  2000
Terry Bowden
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