Posted in Poetry

Edge of Tomorrow

Almost is evermore
with loss at the door
knocking, I answer
“Who steps on my floor?”

Sheepishly, cloyingly
she plays with my heart,
dances and dazzles
one with the court.

Almost, a spectacle
rivets my eyes
on the ceiling she tempts me
her wisdom to tantalize.

Swaying and swooning
I taste being wooed
realize her folly fades
where tomorrow stands proud.

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