Poem of the week: Last Hope by Ben Wilkinson
Bonded affinity ……
Don’t think about graveyard so terrifying,
Neither do you ponder about oak strong
and sturdy with edifice not for challenging;
free air all with healthy bustle roaming about
drawing you free in its penfold with aura
somewhat wholesome and though around yard
no stones embedded with writes, bullying you,
no memory so horrid on every visit dilating
all remnants till now around your pockets.
A song from the branches not bitter layer,
but sweet mood hampering your sour appeal
from throat of a bird accustomed to the arena;
love or lost love, yielding pained moments,
where is counterpart, unheard voice from afar,
memory or fiasco in all its wounded pride;
in the lost hope, rewinds sudden echo
replete with a bonded affinity of galore
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