A parched existence

15 Jun 2012

hellfire
the wolves returned
somewhere
between
the abundance of wine
fickle dreams
and my mother’s orchard
when
the voice of summer
grew silent
quietly occupying
a dark vacant tree
no longer willing
to wrestle
with seagulls, salted swells
or the wisdom
of candlelight
yet, in my dreams
faint flickers remain
and desert flowers
still holds
a sweet bitter taste

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Philosophical

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hellfire

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