Beneath the blue breaths
of winter, death gratefully welcomes
the young, scattering sonnets
white with innocence, hollow rhymes.
They speak of lost love upon the seas,
fair maidens and twilight moments,
verse upon verse of nothingness,
thrills they will never know,
never feel nor see; O, these romantics!
Your works are cocooned for eternity;
Death has come too soon for you.
Mar 5, 2011
Mar 5, 2011 at 5:31 PM UTC
Beneath the blue breaths
of winter, death gratefully welcomes
the young, scattering sonnets
white with innocence, hollow rhymes.
They speak of lost love upon the seas,
fair maidens and twilight moments,
verse upon verse of nothingness,
thrills they will never know,
never feel nor see; O, these romantics!
Your works are cocooned for eternity;
Death has come too soon for you.
© 2011, Lori Carlson
All poetry under the names Lori Carlson or Iona Nerissa are the sole property of Lori Carlson.
Please seek permission before using any of my writings.
~Lori Carlson~
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