Pilgramage

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Linger with me,
old winding streets
Rattle my bones,
gray, rain soaked cold

Cobbles and spires
denied the fires
Along the banks
my soul gives thanks

A wayward muse
forgets her ruse
Of you I dream
my sweet release

Clock Tower (the home of Big Ben), London, c.b.w.

- – -

c.b.w. 2012

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25 thoughts on “Pilgramage

  1. It is so special when we get to go on a pilgrimage–or perhaps it’s that a pilgrimage calls us from our ordinary days so we realize even more the wonder of our lives.

  2. Wow, so many great lines in such a short poem. Every time I pick a favorite line or stanza, i reread and think, oooh, I really like this part. That my friend, is the sign of a great poet. Thanks!

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