It is but noble to surmise
what fortune doth caress
in distant lover’s eyes
what animal carnage shall thee unfurl
in every waking breath I do but know
within all disinterested hearts to keep
but wait while she speaks
hang about and tender
the overgrown garden’s needs
for it is in the waiting
that seeming dreams lie awake
as heaven becomes the mind’s hellscape
By Sam Fawcett
28th January, 2024. Shakespeare edition.
in distant lover’s eyes
Parisian Poetry 