Foxgloves on the verge to bloom
As they tremble under the hues shed by the moon
Like a bride's whites in the arms of her groom:
Rays of palor rifting the sky.
And in the woods where she awaits for the black preacher's boon
The death looks down from the clouds with that wry smile
Ready to reach for her conquered, though scorched, heart at any time.
But for now she's fine, she's fine.
YOU ARE READING
purple wounds
PoetryChapter One: Glimmer of Hope (purple wounds) In her song Sweet Nothing, Taylor Swift said: "On the way home, I wrote a poem You say, 'What a mind', this happens all the time." This quote defines exactly what you'll find in this collection. Several...
