Bright Stars

by David K. Asamoah

Oh starry night, I look at you and swoon
Enchanted by your ever constant gaze
Your numberless glowing orbs watch o’er the ruin
Of sleeping souls held in a somnolent haze
Not all are blessed to lose into that scent
Some run past dawn and miss that gorgeous high
But while the odour lingers, you present
A warming presence that feels ever nigh,
In those small hours I feel I’ve my place,
Not sleepless nor unsettled through till morn
So help my soul the darkness I would face
Without your stars to guide me through to dawn
I lie swathed in that dreamy stupor lest
I wake stripped of that temporal peace and rest.

The Poor Print

Established in 2013, The Poor Print is the student-run newspaper of Oriel College, Oxford, written by members of the JCR, MCR, SCR and staff. New issues are published fortnightly during term. Our current Executive Editors are Siddiq Islam and Jerric Chong.

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