CAMELOT FANTASIES

SOULS FORLORN

A poet, I must have been in my past.
Words that I have cast, ov visions in my mind.
Words that come to pass, ov those I did not know.
Sentences ov long ago, plagues me to be adorned.
Poetry do I explore, resplendent was that time.
I revisit my rhymes, when my mind opens it's door.
Once a darker regress, when memories explored.
At times ov darkness, Poe had been scorned.
In the mists of the dark alleys, the raven was born.
They were the cobblestones, ov monsters in progress.
Adrift the souls, ov the forlorn.