A tapping sound against the empty pane
of glass; a writer’s friend has come to callThe winter’s winds have left his food beyond
his reach today. So, have my lunch my friendOn darkened wings, I feel my lover’s kiss
embrace my thoughts, my pen keeps writing onuntil no words remain. A hurried kiss
that’s lost in time when work has done its dayThe writer yields his heart to her and once
again, she gently sooths his soul from pain
© JG Farmer 2017
Form: Blank Verse Couplets with Enjambment