Before the awaited balding of her head
due to her tragic fate in time,
her hair was a waterfall of honey-colored silk,
kissed by the fire and gold of sunrise,
delicately adorned
by a picturesque of flowery ideas-
that in her own world makes her
the Queen of her Garden.
⚛︎⚛︎⚛︎
we're all royalty, yes?
YOU ARE READING
{ 光 } ━ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝟣𝟩𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 ( fin )
Poetryshe had hoped to know who she was when blowing out her seventeen candles Ⓒ 2017, shoobari. All Rights Reserved sigh, ok : #26 [ 06 | 29 | 17 ]
