Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Triolet

I knew of thee from sight to light, Glory;
  it was our pleasure to love evermore:
  we died to fly bonded in love blurry.
I knew of thee from sight to light, Glory;
  ours was fated a firestorm story;
  where we yielded nearly damned for amore.
I knew of thee from sight to light, Glory;
  it was our pleasure to love evermore.
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