Rondeau: Cycle
A little warmth begins a wave
which dances on a network stave
of neurons growing intertwined.
Soft oscillations, safe confined,
a nascent mind in new bone cave.
Instinctively a life will crave
a pulse in phase to gently lave
in harmony, and so to find
a little warmth.
Eventually a life must waive
the frame it can no longer save.
The pattern quivers unaligned,
electric ‘I' to heat resigned,
and flowing from the past enclave,
a little warmth.
poem by Diane Hine
Added by Poetry Lover
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