Pots 'n pans brightly
gleamed in early morning sun;
dust now, like your bones.
Dust now, like your bones
under that snapped cherry tree;
memories fading.
Memories fading,
the sun snuffs out another;
heavens' set ablaze.
3 weeks ago
A Syllabic Storm
1 comment:
"dust now, like your bones.
Dust now, like your bones" To begin one statement with the ending of the former. Splendid Sarah.
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