Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Talking daisies,
feeding grass,
and marble monuments
to the past.

Blackbird serenades,
painted bones,
the fox is screaming
a lovers moan.

The moon is rising,
waiting stars impatient,
***** crickets
their song so blatant.

The mud is cooling
as the breeze caresses.
Breath is fleeting
and darkness possesses.

— The End —