Hidden in their golden binnacle — secretly
the compass shows in comet’s tail. A trail,
directions perfume-lead in frankincense and myrrh
leading to the stable with the manger of noel.
They cannot dwindle, dawdle like the pachyderms
locked inside the darkness of kafkaesque plight.
But hurry, don’t be late for starlight of tonight.
Once again I have created a small poem from the words of #lqw and linked it up to lqw-week wordle.
December 28, 2014