Of bluebells and shiny ornaments
even the stars grew weary of the whispers: they were nothing but shiny ornaments who barely held a roof in place over a jealous floor where bluebells grew at such languid pace beneath the charcoal shade of night as keepers of dead men’s secrets
9
0
hellfire
Art….. is the footprint of inner essence – James Carver
Comments
Sign in or sign up to comment on this poem!
Poems by style
Poems by content