Last dance of the Limeñon

living, loving, rhymes and rhythm


I fear not all detritus for the soul´s a speedy runner

and it races for the betterment of sanctity in time

Nightly knowing dreams of haunting charm ring bells within the tunnel

Satisfies the hastened voyage to the staircase you must climb

Now I know you´re thinking nought defies the chaos in the corner

There indeed resides a mortar grinding pestle in the dark

Tis not easy stopping runaways from fleeing to the former

humbled author with a message in the form of matriarch

But she waivers with a startle and the crispy air´s upon her –

neath the curtain lifts a shadowed hand that shallowed course of flame

With an odour fresh the leafy créche is dawning on her honour;

when waivered will of the greatest ilk attracts a cause for blame.


and peace x


Helen´s head in the clouds





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