Sunshine through misty gray haze,
Where mockery & jeer gaze,
The winding roads of torment, a maze,
On this mountain of pasqueflowers I laze,
One solitary soul afraid to show its face,
Walks far & wide without a trace,
A time, a thought & a race,
Garroted to destiny by a pink satin lace.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
:)
Very nice.
Pasqueflowers again...Hmmm..wonder why
thanks!
Looks like I have a fetish for pasqueflowers, doesn't it? ;)
hehe! i just thot of the pasque flowers thingiee...;)...nyways...since u answered that...this poem suits that snap I asked u to write bout...except that it doesnt hav pasque flowers again ;)
Loved the last line. Very vivid.
@suma
Vivid...yeah! who else wud've thot' of a pink satin lace for garroting? ;)
Post a Comment