Artist

A saint of all silent souls,
the most content gentleman is.
Gloved words trailed in incense
Upon the altar of hopes;
He placed a sacrifice long ago.

Now, his eyes hold a candle,
Drops of fragrant spring unlit, waiting
To be let out, then kept
In thin porcelain for another day.

Thus, his heart is tucked, sowed
In all of the trails he strolled-
New treasure maps, libations
To shatter young girls' dreams.