There was a man but twenty one

In moonlit air his face did shine

He vowed to keep the world aspinning

On which he left his town behind


Cities fell and stars shone softly

Over the path he trod on richly

The man thus travelled wide and far

Held to a light that shone on strongly


But the sun does set and the man grew old

The fire glowed brightly from his eyes

The world spun on, for someone like me

Will never tire of his sighs


For my heart he had hitherto won

A husband then twenty one


Well, not a lot of time again on this beautiful Monday morning for Blogging 201 Poetry:  ballad and epistrophe.  I only succeeded in repeating the “twenty one” in the first and last verse, but I had a lot of fun playing with the memories that this poem brought up and with the lyrical part of it.


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