You did not speak
yet I was told
to keep myself
to myself
And I did
I hid deep beneath
creeping roses
pressed into the rich earthen loam
Wrap me in word flowers
fragile colored syllables
to lie amongst
Slumber,
no
But death
yes,
a lover’s embrace.
I could lie quietly
inhale your fragrance
to exhale eternity
Held in thrall
a poem for a winding sheet
3 comments:
oh wow. This is just beautiful!
This one is so quietly distraught. All I could picture was lying on a grave. Which is beautiful and desperate. Did you have an image in your head for this one?
Hey Moon,
thankyou *smile*, a little dark perhaps but there you have it :)
It has a certain stilted feel to it but I kinda like it, something different for me.
Hiya Bridget, the image was based around the winding sheet actually, and it evolved from that thought of a body wrapped in white linen, very creepy Victorian type of death image.
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