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The Itinerant Mr Ferntree

I park round at the tradesman’s entrance
yet there is no gilded trader here

in perception, I am the service worker
industrious, necessary, in and out the way,
ephemeral if you will

job done and gone, a small burnt on memory then,
no more
I left you to the assembled glory of one

who gave you some function in utility,
yet you won’t remember me:
this small sphere of influence, just moves on

You, however, will leave a growing vision
In that glow ember of morning
I’ll then forge it, frame it and warp-rearrange it

Into a woven tapestry of war stories,
a lamplit table of slow reverie
that grows and feeds a life in me.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Last few words: 
Had a bit of a hiatus. just trying out a few ideas. Work! Arghh.
Editing stage: 

Comments

Learn to relax, and let the words flow in think.
You are trying too hard and losing the essence of form, and natural rhythm.
Good to see your return just give us all a chance to be there with you, Yours Ian..

.
Give critique to help keep Neopoet great.
Unconditional love to you all.
"Learn to love yourself first"
Yours as always, Ian.T, Sparrow, and Yenti

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