Edge
Aging tulips bow their
Crisp oxblood heads
Like dying embers
An elegant silver blade
Anxiously points toward
The obsidian window
Frail with disappointment
I stagnate by the sink
An inert phantom
Surrounded by walls.
Friday 26th February 2016 9:46 am
Recent Comments
Rick Varden on What’s Wrong with Me?
2 hours ago
Marla Joy on The Poets are Lying.
15 hours ago
Marla Joy on Coincidence?
15 hours ago
Marla Joy on Your budding awareness
15 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Christmas Rocks 🎅 🎄☃️
16 hours ago
Hugh on Do not stand at my grave and wee
18 hours ago
Auracle on Thank you for all your poetry throughout 2024! Take a look at our Insta advent calendar - you're very welcome to join in!
1 day ago
Auracle on If.........
1 day ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on I Pray For All My Friends Around The World
1 day ago
Stephen Gospage on Thank you for all your poetry throughout 2024! Take a look at our Insta advent calendar - you're very welcome to join in!
1 day ago