Patrolling the underground realms
Lifting thought from prepared pages
Easing youth that won’t overwhelm
Knowing craft requires poise upon the stage
The dissidents lining streets in praise
While heroes grow cold, lying in state
Sharpen your pens lads, we rise by days
Attune your focus & we might outlive our fates
Crafting words & dilapidated feelings
Withdrawing the essence of existence
Distilling the meaning of love’s texture
To stir my soul to our mutual subsistence
I’m crafting out lines, curious & new
Writing these rhymes rare & distinguished
I’m waxing on poetic, warming her through
Turns out; I’m quite the cunning linguist
Captain Q 