Final Draft

My poetry selfish,

a teacher I’m not,

my message once for saying

 

Instruction a tool

long missing and gone,

imagery not relaying

 

The ivory tower

a dungeon to me

where freedom goes to die

 

The wind in the willows,

a hawk on the wing

—my verse to course and fly

 

(The New Room: October, 2021)

 

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