Song For A Play

Soldier drop that golden spear!
Wait till the fires arise!
Wait till the sky drops down and touches the spear,
Crystal and mother-of-pearl!
The sunlight droops forward
Like wings.
The birds sing songs of sun-drops.
The sky leans down where the spear stands upward. . .
I hear music . . .
It is the end . . .

Hilda Conkling The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.