dramatic - Popular Poems and stories from category

Act I
IS
AE
ED

…
’Tis thy affection’s on tip of a golden string,
With salt box of my minds chattering in beseech,
Thou art canvas for a willow I never leaned on,

Arbor emptied occluded by autumn early come,
Th’ stone giant’s rooted like a loner in candle spark,
Door’s wheezing for mother nay listened to her wench,
Th’ bench waiting for th’ nurse called long agone for lunch.