Sep 2012
Rain weaves weary paths on the
old Aurelian stone busts
like lilting music in a
deserted ballroom.
Yellow cobblestones echo
underneath black soled shoes and
sickly noses sing.
Across the street, children laugh
like the breaking shaft of a
silverish door key in a
cold iron-clad lock.
old Aurelian stone busts
like lilting music in a
deserted ballroom.
Yellow cobblestones echo
underneath black soled shoes and
sickly noses sing.
Across the street, children laugh
like the breaking shaft of a
silverish door key in a
cold iron-clad lock.
I took a line that I liked from my creative writing assignment and built a somewhat new poem around it.
