Monday, July 5, 2004Moss GravesOrchid flower, child of woe Pressed wings to fingertips The dusty powder lingers Even after death, the tomb Sad shells of shoulders bowed Barren soil, leafy grass The dandelions shade sorrow Their yellow tutus dancing In the mournful, wailing wind Ghostly words, blackened stone Moss on weeping... Sign in to see full entry.posted by MiaElla at 11:25 PM Comments (7) (permalink) |
