dpbowman

The posings of a poet.

Stranger


I find myself
 a stranger
and wish to be
 his guide
to steer him clear
  of danger
and have a companion
  at my side
We together walk
the Path
and talk of lust for
 living
he’s seen twice
what I hath
and has half
of my misgivings
Instead I find
he guides me
in what should be my
cause
I follow and
and I can see
a thought that gives me
pause
Stranger things have
come
to pass
Stranger things will be
Stranger, you’re reflected
in this glass
Strange
  I think it’s
                me
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