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The Web Poetry Corner - M A Heathcote - She wore a feather bower

She wore a feather bower

by

M A Heathcote

She wore a feather bower
Lay upon the ground
To me it wasn’t a great mystery
To me—was her crown?

Had my princedom, my esprit
This empted hour
A puppet tiring clown
Wouldn’t be my only power...

For all my minions around
Like a wind chime
In the garden of her hair
I’d doubt, forbear

Too kiss and love begrime
My time to her care
A sunset I’d supplant...
New kingdoms there!


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