A knotted sack with
bones i suppose,
some dead flowers...
Tiny black wings
of a butterfly that is lost
and dust laden seeds of insanity.
...was resting on the pavement
aligning the murky way to the dead Church.
And i thought not to call the angels for her.
I thought not to disturb the resting soul.
bones i suppose,
some dead flowers...
Tiny black wings
of a butterfly that is lost
and dust laden seeds of insanity.
...was resting on the pavement
aligning the murky way to the dead Church.
And i thought not to call the angels for her.
I thought not to disturb the resting soul.
2 comments:
"And i thought not to call the angels for her." - the strongest lines in the poem I think, its got a strange mixture of wistfulness, pain and peace. Keep writing!!!
Evanescent!.....and i was reminded of the Little Match girl.....
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