#From the incident room

It is alleged he is the house mad poet
all in the best possible taste of course
left to his own devices
there are times when he suffers from the sound
of empty vessels
yet shows no emotion
always believing in time
there will be rhyme.
Precious Gems
will be released from their clasped shell
His wand will cast its spell
leaving someone breathless
even if it is the den’s host, the house mad poet
who always takes great comfort
that a dark sky always holds a host of stars.
A creature of habit, from inside his den
vagrant words are always welcomed
as he mines away.
The cherry on the cake of an unpolished poem
it is now no longer a white elephant.
It is a winged bird
being honed so as to take flight into the vast unknown.
(c) Chris Black. April 2018
#The kitchen.

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