The breeze caress the golden leaves,
as the onlookers glimpse the amber sky.
And the eyes whisper against the morning eve,
as the dew drops fall to stain the early pry.
And there, the arrow bares its sheath,
while the by-passers stain their wrathful heaths.
For underneath the blinding sun,
lies the epitome of their building fun.
For underneath this little toy,
lies the victim who plays his coy.
And now, all shall be found under these hollows,
all shall be adorned over these willows.
For underneath the little boy that hangs,
lies the monster, who extends his fangs.
YOU ARE READING
Poesy of Eloquence
Poetry❝ this tragedy is soaked with tears that dry the ink in my hands. ❞ ━ the poesy I've yearned to release ever since I taught myself to pick up the pen and write. ❝ for if the painting of my words be the garden upon the gate of heaven, glimpse them...
