feverfew.
Roses are dead
Violet's gone hue
Amidst of my swelling void
A new beginning grew
Yes, the roses are dead
And the violet's gone hue
But in the garden bloomed
A feverfew or two
After the pouring season;
As I was alone, maimed, and blue
You arrived with a cure,
That left me forget the afterview
But only if you knew
That I don't need
A feverfew or two
When I already got you
YOU ARE READING
Wild Cards
Poetry"Wild Cards" is a collection of poems and proses for all of the uncertainties we'll have to gamble through after taking the risk and giving chance to open ourselves to something new.
