Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
On the day her body burned she asked the winds to be her friends and they picked her up and poured her through the fingers of their hands like a river without ending that won't be tied or bound, until every trace of dust embraced the freedom it had found.
0
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 2:32 AM UTC
Post mortem
On the day her body burned she asked the winds to be her friends and they picked her up and poured her through the fingers of their hands like a river without ending that won't be tied or bound, until every trace of dust embraced the freedom it had found.
bones24
Written by
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 2:32 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem