Era we beware
Ere we were helipad elite not so
many defilade. If it icecap - so real
art. Sad, a careworn warden, if we
felt so. Path guardrails send as
sign in night. A pyre sore not self
faraway yaw. A raffle: stone rosery.
Path ginning is sadness? Liar!
Draught apostle, few finedrawn
rower - a cadastral aerospace
citified. A life dynamo, stone-tiled
a pile ... here we were.
© photomicrograph by Dr. Manfred Friedrich
© palindrome poem by Martin Mooz
