Poem: Waiting For Gardenias

  This old man’s palm a supplicant, in turn for spots of majesty. Parquet, so parched, believing still, he will be aided, granted balm. Congregating by the gate, the splashed mob hewn their jewelled limbs, a league above in finery with laissez-faire in rule. Embracing life, that discipline, a bind of beauty sought. His work to be rewarded thus when fealty seals with ordained fuss. We all wait … Continue reading Poem: Waiting For Gardenias