in my dreams, you come around,
i've found i am accustomed.
love, don't leave me waiting here
for fear i'll never blossom--

capitulating moonbeams
shine mean on my wilted frame;
pot-bound roots ache forever.
(i will never be the same.)

glare, my giant, find me small
in rainhall, under bare light--
pretend it's as the sea goes
here in the faux western night.

Pirate Grace introduces us to traditional Welsh poetry forms over at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads this week, starting with this form, called awdl gywydd. It took me a while to warm my brain to this form, but now I think I love it. I predict more to come, as well as more of the lovely oddquain.