When His Reach Exceeds His Grasp

My Guardian Angel

Saw me drink of something

From the Pierian Spring.

A pact with the Devil?

Life is not that simple.

The Angelus bells ring.

 

The tree of knowledge stands

Inside the garden glade

It casts its fatal shade.

Man heeds its sad commands.

And thinks he understands.

And makes a doleful trade.

 

Now my sad angel weeps.

A sad vigil he keeps.

 

Welcome to SUNDAY MUSE #57 .  This is the very first time I’ve written a  HEXSONNETTA 

 

 

 

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