Dark Poetry #4 |
tubes |
JenniferMaxwell
since 2006-09-14
Posts 2423 |
In dreams the smocks she wore for candling strung out like funnel clouds were pinned to lines in the cellar where her winter brown geraniums parched desert flowers thirsting for hopeful light filled every cobwebbed windowsill and the air with the redolence of moldering earth and bitterness sharp as voices that drew her down the basement stair to rooms cemented safe from horrors gleaming in the cutlery drawer Scissors paper rock time in water drops erodes and wears the stone to sand Castles crumble all fall down in rings of tarnished roses |
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moonbeam
since 2005-12-24
Posts 2356 |
Eek, tres tres bonne (or bon?), but I need cheering up this evening, bbl. M |
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