#wainscot
Black moss and flower pots.
She cometh not, she cometh not.
Lonely and moated,
Rusted nails broken.
Dew with tears,
An hour before sunlight.
Cold winds wake,
A greyish mourn.
Clustered marish-mosses,
Silver green bark.
In a dreamy home.
Among wainscot,
Door hinges creak.
Like a mouse,
She shrieked-
She cometh not, she cometh not.
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 8:06 PM UTC