Galway Review 8 - April 2020

Matt Mooney x
Fugitive Verses
Out of reach up in her chambers
windows the blue of a starry sky
high up in the castle tower above
she resides these nights and days
absented from my lyrical forays
probably reclining on her chaise
my Muse no longer mine I swear
sips nectar from a silver goblet
while I choose to idle by this way
on a wingèd steed to glance aside
to receive her smile if she appears
whenever the clouds are cumulus
silently instilling me with wonder
as I pass on a pure white Pegasus.
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