poetry contest

as i lie roofed in, screened in
now that i have cooled to you
like eagles on up high
friend, whose smile has come to be
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
all my love for my sweet
glass-blower of time
i loved a woman
let a joy keep you
to come so soon to this imagined dark
the old west, the old time