The Grand Scheme of Things

He was atomic
A void not peaceful
Though wasn’t static
But like lightning falling
He was enigmatic
Though loving him
Proved problematic

She was barren
A desert without form
So tired of caring
Or like a planet roiling
Could hear her swearing
And if you caught a glimpse
Her wing was wearing

© Delia Ross. 2020

More poetry coming to my blog and my Patreon

Thanks for checking out my work!


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