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charlotte-reynoldsPoems
Speculation proved contagious, misinterpretation crept silently on patchwork soles (odds n' sods messily stitched, tittle tattle did no favours) like a flu it spread, hushed curiosities rested outside ol' Hutch baker's door, where even a freshly oven'd batch might strain an ear or five to net nearby tongue trading, seeds straining on their brows. Even those Mother hens had a cluck or two left in them, rumours about the 'Dust mite Martyr' as she was dubbed, “Does she have no shame, sitting pretty in Matrimony's dress?” one heaving checkered breast commented titling her beak to gain a better look - At that shriveller slumped, an examiner of the cobbles with such a religious stare her lids traced stones within the darkness, a traveller - wanderer not to be trusted, especially not with bloodied lilies tangled within her gleaming mop.
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Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 1:58 PM UTC
Martyr
Speculation proved contagious, misinterpretation crept silently on patchwork soles (odds n' sods messily stitched, tittle tattle did no favours) like a flu it spread, hushed curiosities rested outside ol' Hutch baker's door, where even a freshly oven'd batch might strain an ear or five to net nearby tongue trading, seeds straining on their brows. Even those Mother hens had a cluck or two left in them, rumours about the 'Dust mite Martyr' as she was dubbed, “Does she have no shame, sitting pretty in Matrimony's dress?” one heaving checkered breast commented titling her beak to gain a better look - At that shriveller slumped, an examiner of the cobbles with such a religious stare her lids traced stones within the darkness, a traveller - wanderer not to be trusted, especially not with bloodied lilies tangled within her gleaming mop.
Written by
charlotte-reynolds
English
Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 1:58 PM UTC
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